Tarah's Lessons

by Tracey V. Bateman

  “Well, my niece is wrong.”

  “I wouldn’t bet on it if I was you.”

  Ben kept silent through the exchange. He met Anthony’s gaze over Laney’s head and held on as though trying to read into the depths of his soul. Anthony looked away from the wizened perusal and released a frustrated sigh. “I didn’t come over here to discuss me, anyway.”

  “Then what’d you want to talk about?”

  Suddenly, Anthony didn’t know. He wanted to reassure her. To gather her in his lap and give her the kind of love a child deserved. Reaching into his heart, he asked the first question that came to mind. “You two haven’t been to church much, have you?”

  “Ain’t never been b’fore today.”

  “What did you think of the service?”

  Laney shrugged. “Don’t rightly know. My b’hind got sore sittin’ there so long. Ya yelled real good, though. Just like Pa when he’s all liquored up.”

  Anthony felt the heat creep up his neck. He turned toward Ben, suddenly caring what the child thought.

  Ben frowned.

  With a sinking heart, Anthony gave him a wry smile. “You didn’t care for the service either, I take it?”

  “Reckon I did,” he said quietly.

  “You enjoyed the sermon?”

  “Can’t rightly say I understood a lot of it. But the part about bein’ sinners and how we need God—that part I understood. ’Course I reckon Laney and me was the only ones in the whole church that didn’t already know it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You talkin’ ’bout that fella that kept talkin’ in front of us, Ben?”

  Ben nodded.

  Anthony waited for someone to elaborate and was just about to suggest it when Laney obliged. “Kept sayin’ how there weren’t no real sinners in the whole place and how you was spittin’ in the wind.”

  Embarrassment swept over Anthony. Did the whole town believe he was preaching in vain? Didn’t Paul say, “All have sinned and come short of the glory of God”? Or was it Peter? Anthony’s muddled brain couldn’t conjure up a single verse of Scripture he could quote with certainty. He raked his fingers through his hair. “I just don’t know what to do.” Realizing he’d spoken aloud, his gaze darted to the two children. They stared back at him, curiosity on Laney’s face, understanding on Ben’s. The boy gave a hesitant frown and looked away.

  “It’s all right, Ben. You can speak your mind.”

  “Naw.”

  Curiosity piqued, Anthony felt compelled to hear what the boy had to say. “Go ahead,” he urged. “I won’t be angry.”

  Ben took a long breath, then released it with a whoosh. “Seems to me,” he began earnestly, “that tryin’ to tell folks who already go to church that they need God is sorta like trying to talk a hound dog into eatin’ a rabbit. He already knows a rabbit’s good eatin’.”

  Defenses raised, Anthony stared at Ben. What did this kid know about anything? The strongest lesson Reverend Cahill had taught Anthony was to hammer the salvation message into his congregation. “Many church folks think their lives are just fine,” Anthony’s mentor had said, “when in reality, they’re closer to the gates of hell than they know. As ministers of the gospel, it’s our responsibility not to let even the smallest opportunity pass without sharing the truth. And that will more than likely make you unpopular.”

  Well, it had certainly made Anthony unpopular. His three-month trial period was half over, and he worried he might not have his position extended to a permanent status—despite the fact that he’d visited each of the remaining families this week.

  He took comfort from the memory of Reverend Cahill’s words. “Always preach the truth, no matter the cost. It’s better to lose man’s favor than to stand before God and answer why you took the easy road.”

  With his arms behind him, he leaned on his palms and stared reflectively into the water.

  “Sorry, Preacher. I shoulda kept my mouth shut.”

  “No, Ben,” he said. “You pretty much summed up the reason my congregation has been getting smaller and smaller each week. But you have to understand. Not everyone attends church services for the right reasons. There are many people sitting on benches week after week who don’t know the Lord.”

  “And you figure some of them are sittin’ in yer church?”

  Anthony shrugged. “I can’t see the hearts of men. I only have to preach what I feel God is telling me to preach.”

  “So yer not mad?”

  Anthony smiled. “Not a bit. I think you’re a very bright boy with a lot of insight.”

  Ben flushed with pleasure.

  “Anthony?” Louisa’s soft voice behind him drew Anthony’s attention from his newfound revelation.

  “I’m leavin’.” Laney shot to her feet and stomped away.

  “The boys are planning to play baseball, if you’d like to join them,” Louisa offered to Ben as he stood.

  “I cain’t.” He limped away, leaving a red-faced Louisa to stare after him.

  “I hoped perhaps we could take a walk while the children are playing,” she said, her voice more subdued than Anthony had ever observed.

  “Let’s sit here for a while instead.”

  She eyed the ground dubiously, then nodded. “If that’s what you prefer.” Carefully, she lowered herself until she sat beside him. “I know you didn’t mean to speak to me the way you did earlier,” she said, a hint of her usual cheerfulness returning. “So I’ve decided to forgive you.”

  “That’s good of you,” Anthony drawled. He had intended to apologize for admonishing her in front of the St. Johns, but apparently an apology wasn’t necessary.

  “Hey, Anthony!”

  Anthony turned at the sound of Luke’s voice.

  “Come play baseball with us. We need a pitcher.”

  “Oh, Anthony.” Louisa’s countenance took on a pretty pout. “You’re not going to play with the children, are you?”

  Relieved at the chance to make a graceful exit, Anthony stood and grinned down at her. “You heard Luke. They need a pitcher.”

  He heard her huff as he strode toward the players. A niggling of unease swept over him at the thought of the entire town believing they were courting. He wasn’t sure how to go about it, but he had to find a way to let Louisa know she had to look elsewhere for a husband. Of course, if she had her heart set on marrying him, as Laney seemed to think she did, he would probably have an easier time trying to convince a rattlesnake not to strike.

  Releasing a heavy sigh, Anthony tried to push away his troublesome thoughts. Between Louisa’s relentless pursuit, his congregation’s lack of response, and Tarah’s disinterest, his life wasn’t going at all as he had planned.

  Ten

  After hours spent on his knees bombarding heaven with desperate questions, Anthony still had no answers. Releasing a weary breath, he wiped the tears from his cheeks and stretched out on his bed. He closed his eyes, but sleep eluded him as his mind whirled like a spring twister.

  Two weeks had passed since the picnic, and whether Anthony liked it or not, Ben’s words weighed heavily on his heart. His nerves were taut with uncertainty.

  Conflicting thoughts warred against each other like two great armies on a field of battle. While he didn’t want to neglect the salvation message, how could he ignore the spiritual needs of folks who were truly living for God? Should he abandon his firm message of the consequences of sin and begin to teach the fundamentals of godly living as Ben, in his innocence, had suggested?

  It would have been so easy to disregard the boy’s comments—and he had been prepared to do just that—but last week’s message had once again fallen on deaf ears. The apathy on the faces of the few remaining members of his congregation had drained his enthusiasm for his message, and for the first time he doubted his mentor’s teachings.

  Were these people really hard-hearted and unwilling to hear the Bible preached? If so, why were several families still meeting at the Johnson farm on Sunday morning
s to read Scripture and sing hymns? Even Tucker, Anthony had heard, was beginning to attend the home group. His congregation was split in half, and Anthony felt the weight of responsibility for the division heavily upon his shoulders.

  In preparation for today’s sermon, he had prayed and studied the apostles’ letters to the churches. Every one of them. But he hadn’t received a clear answer. Services would begin in four hours, and he still had nothing to feed his sheep.

  Frustrated, he pushed away the heavy quilt covering him and sat up on the edge of his bed. He swiped a hand through his hair and looked up as though the answers might be inscribed on the ceiling.

  With his arms bent at the elbows, he held his hands palm up. “What is it, Lord? What am I doing wrong? If I am truly speaking Your message, then why have people stopped attending services?” In the early church, God had added souls daily. Even amid opposition to the apostles’ teachings. So why was his church getting smaller and smaller?

  With a resigned sigh, he dressed, grabbed his Bible from the table beside his bed, and tiptoed through the house. He snatched an apple from the kitchen table, shoved it into his coat pocket, then quietly exited the house, leaving the morning chores to his brothers.

  He entered the schoolhouse in the darkness. After building a fire in the woodstove, he sank onto one of the wooden benches behind a desk. Weary from lack of sleep and spent tears, he leaned his elbows on the desk and stared into the darkness, wondering what he would say to his congregation when they arrived expecting a sermon.

  “I guess I could give them an object lesson.” He gave a short bitter laugh. “The children sure loved it.” As a matter of fact, his lesson to Tarah’s class had garnered the only favorable response he’d received for his preaching since he’d moved back to Harper.

  As light from the east filtered in through the window, slowly pushing the inky blackness from the room, so, too, did the fog begin to lift from Anthony’s mind.

  For the last few weeks, he had been preaching salvation to the saved. Redemption to the already redeemed. The time had come for a new approach.

  ❧

  Concern sifted over Tarah as Anthony walked to the pulpit, the usual spring in his step noticeably absent. Dark smudges appeared under his eyes, and his face was a full shade paler than normal. Clearing his throat, he paused and stared out over the congregation.

  When his gaze met hers, he gave her a crooked grin as though reassuring her. Tarah felt herself flush and quickly averted her gaze.

  Though she had been furious with him for taking Louisa Thomas to the picnic, she’d found herself unable to hold a grudge—not after the way he’d defended, then gone after, Laney.

  If he preferred Louisa, so be it. Though Tarah’s heart couldn’t help beating a staccato in his presence, she had resigned herself to his friendship.

  “Let’s begin with prayer,” Anthony said, as he did each Sunday morning.

  Tarah held her breath and nearly mouthed the words, “Our most gracious heavenly Father,” along with him.

  “May your words pour like honey on the ears of the listeners today. And may the truth penetrate each heart and mind. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

  Tarah lifted her head and opened her eyes, observing him with the same quiet surprise she was sure was reflected in each face present. Something was different.

  Slowly, Anthony reached inside his pocket and produced an apple. Then he pulled out a small knife as well.

  Feeling a hand on her arm, Tarah glanced down into Laney’s questioning eyes. “How’s he gonna preach if he’s eatin’?” she whispered. “Yer ma says it ain’t polite to talk with yer mouth full.”

  “It’s not polite to talk during service either,” Tarah whispered back, placing a finger to the little girl’s lips.

  She couldn’t imagine what Anthony was thinking, and she wondered if his pale countenance and the dark rings under his eyes were indications of an illness. Twisting around, she caught Dr. Simpson’s gaze. He shrugged and sent her a reassuring smile, then glanced back up at Anthony, concern written on his leathery face.

  Slowly, Anthony sliced through the apple, then held up one half in each hand.

  Shuffling noises could be heard throughout the room, and Tarah knew the bewildered congregation wondered if their preacher had suddenly gone daft.

  Anthony sent a wry grin around the room. “Bear with me, folks. I’m not crazy yet.”

  Nervous laughter made its way through the smattering of people present, and Tarah felt some of the tension leave her shoulders.

  “Now let me ask an obvious question. What kind of seeds would you say are inside here?”

  “What kinda fool question is that?” Mr. Collins asked, earning him a firm elbow in his side from Mrs. Collins.

  “It’s all right, Mrs. Collins. Don’t burn his dinner just to teach him a lesson. I did ask a silly question.”

  Mrs. Collins blushed as her husband chortled. “Thank you, Preacher,” he said, “she just mighta done that.”

  Again, the congregation rumbled with laughter.

  A thrill passed over Tarah’s heart as she sat watching Anthony speak as though he were passing the day in Tucker’s store. For the first time ever he was reaching his congregation.

  “Even the youngest among us,” Anthony continued, “understand that inside an apple are apple seeds.”

  He glanced around the room until his eyes lit on young Sally Hammond. “Sally, when your pa plants his hayseed, what grows?”

  The little girl blushed and ducked her head. “Aw, Preacher, you know.”

  “Answer the man’s question,” Mr. Hammond said sternly.

  “Yes, Pa.”

  Anthony’s features softened. “What grows from hayseeds?”

  “Hay,” she whispered, her face glowing bright red.

  “That’s right. Even a child knows that you get what you plant.”

  He held the apple up once more. “Although you may not know how many apples come from one seed, you can be assured of the kind of fruit it will produce.”

  Tarah drew a breath and waited for him to come to the point.

  “Galatians 6:7 says, ‘Be not deceived; God is not mocked: For whatsoever a man soweth, that shall he also reap.’ ” He swallowed hard and walked around the pulpit to stand directly before the congregation.

  “For the past few weeks, I’ve sown seeds of judgment and criticism to the folks in this town. The fruit I reaped from those seeds were criticism of my preaching and division among the good Christian folks of Harper.”

  Tarah’s eyes moistened as his voice faltered, and she longed to throw her arms around him and reassure him. The silence in the room was deafening as the congregation watched. When he had composed himself, Anthony continued.

  “There are only a few weeks left in my trial period. Lord willing, I will preach a series of messages on living a godly life.” He swallowed hard. “To those of you who have come each week despite my shortcomings, I thank you for your support and prayers. And I’ll do my best to make amends to the folks who felt they had to leave.”

  The sounds of sniffling filled the room as ladies placed handkerchiefs to their noses and men cleared their throats.

  The sight of Anthony standing so vulnerable and open before his congregation tore at Tarah’s heart.

  “I know it’s a mite early, but this is all the Lord placed on my heart to share.”

  Tarah smiled through tears as he said a short closing prayer and moved down the aisle toward the doorway. She hung back, waiting for her chance to shake his hand.

  Her pulse quickened at Anthony’s bright smile as she approached.

  “You did well,” she murmured. He reached out and took her proffered hand, enveloping her with his warmth.

  “Thank you, Tarah.” His gaze penetrated her, snatching her breath away. “I was wondering—”

  Tarah stumbled forward as a flash of blue taffeta and lace brushed past. Louisa claimed her place next to Anthony and clutched his arm possessively. �
��Oh, Anthony. You were simply wonderful.”

  Tarah resisted the urge to stomp her foot. Why did Louisa always have to show up and ruin everything?

  “Thank you, Louisa,” Anthony said, keeping his gaze fixed on Tarah.

  Louisa followed his gaze, eyes narrowing dangerously. “Wasn’t that just the most clever illustration you’ve ever seen, Tarah?”

  “It was very inspired,” she murmured, unable to break Anthony’s hold on her.

  Louisa’s voice continued as though nothing were amiss. She tapped his arm with her closed fan. “I don’t know what you meant by apologizing, though. You’ve always done a wonderful job. I think folks just don’t appreciate you.”

  Anthony cleared his throat and turned his attention to Louisa, a look of faint amusement covering his face.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Tarah said.

  “Wait.” Anthony reached forward and placed a restraining hand on her arm.

  “Oh, Anthony. Don’t be rude,” Louisa said, tightening her grip on his arm. “Tarah needs to join her family. See, they’re all waiting in the wagon.”

  Anthony released his hold on Tarah’s arm. “I guess it can wait,” he mumbled.

  Louisa gave a bright laugh that Tarah didn’t quite believe. “Besides, I have our picnic all packed and ready to go.”

  A frown furrowed Anthony’s brow as he turned back to Louisa. “Picnic?”

  “Why, of course. We were interrupted last time.” She glanced pointedly at Tarah. “And last week it was raining.”

  “Don’t let me keep you from your picnic.” Tarah sent Anthony and Louisa as bright a smile as she could muster and hoped they didn’t notice the tremble of her lips. “Good day.”

  Without waiting for a response, she hurried to the wagon.

  ❧

  Tarah jammed the needle through the cloth and made yet another crooked stitch in the banner draped in a circle across four laps. Why she had to participate in making the decorations for the end-of-school dance just because she was the teacher, she’d never know. Sewing had always been somewhat of a mystery to her, despite Cassidy’s attempts to help her learn.