by Janette Oke
I wouldn't have said so to the fellas, but I wasn't going to do much crying over Jack being gone. He had been acting so nasty of late that I figured school, at least for me, would be a better place without him. No, I wasn't prepared to be missing Jack Berry much at all. I was content to let the matter drop.
I felt pretty good about life when Camellia told me she really liked my Christmas gift. She said she was going to keep her hankies in it and, not wanting to argue none with her, I didn't tell her I thought hankies to be rather strange "treasures" They sure weren't treasures in my book.
I knew Aunt Lou wouldn't be too happy with me spreading the news of the coming baby among all of my school chums yet, so I held my tongue; but it was awfully hard to keep the excitement to myself. We had never welcomed a little one into our family since I had arrived, and of course I didn't remember anything about what happened at my own coming.
There were some days when Aunt Lou didn't feel too well. I could tell it by looking at her, but she never made any mention of the fact. I guess Uncle Nat and I were both watching for signs. I tried to keep the woodbox a little fuller and made sure there was plenty of water on hand from our yard pump. Uncle Nat was watching for ways he could ease her load as well, but she usually laughed at our anxieties and assured us that she was just fine. She did look a little tired at times, though, and I knew she skipped breakfast some mornings.
Still, things seemed to settle down and the household pretty much ran as it had before, except for the underlying current of anticipation that we all felt.
I started "tutoring" Camellia again. We spent most of the time poring over her pa's books, discussing interesting things that we found.
I had read the book that Camellia gave me for Christmas. It was rather a strange one. Parts of it I couldn't make much sense of. I mean, it said, bold as brass, that man sort of oozed into being, coming up out of the muck and mire and then went from a primitive stage to a more progressive stage of development. As I say, it puzzled me at first because I knew how man really had come into being, and I scratched my head a bit until I realized that the book must be some new sort of book of fancy. Then I settled back and tried to let the imaginings of this writer interest me.
It was quite a tale. All about how this new man creature "evolved" until finally he discovered how to walk up on his two hind feet and use his forefeet to grip things. He did this so much that finally his forefeet turned into fingers for gripping, and then he learned new skills and lost his shaggy fur so he had to make clothes to protect himself and build homes to live in and plant crops for food that he learned to store and preserve.
Even though the whole book was a fairy tale sort of thing, I couldn't make out the reasoning behind it. What I mean is, each stage that this man "advanced" seemed to bring him a lot more troubles and complications instead of simplifying things for him. So why did the teller-of-the-tale bother with the advancing?
It must have been that some folks thought it made interesting "supposing;' but I preferred fanciful stories to make a bit of sense. Anyway, I guessed that the Foggelsons liked this kind of fairy tale and wanted me to become acquainted with it, too. I certainly didn't plan to tell Camellia what I thought of her book.
Then one day when we were reading some of Mr. Foggelson's other books, we came on the same kind of tale again.
"Here's another one," I mumbled more to myself than to Camellia.
"Another what?" she asked.
"Another fairy tale about man creepin' up outta particles of something or other and startin' to live on his own."
"Joshua;" said Camellia, surprise in her voice, "that's not a fairy tale"
I just looked at her. I didn't know what to say.
"What do you call it?" I finally asked, thinking that Camellia must know a new word for a fanciful tale that I didn't know.
"Evolution;' she answered, as though surprised I didn't know the word already.
"Evolution. Oh!"
I let the matter drop, but I repeated the word several times to myself so I wouldn't forget it. I intended to look it up when I got home so that next time I could impress the Foggelsons by naming the tale by its proper name.
Even before I sat down with my cookies and milk when I got home, I looked up the word. Old Webster was a good friend of mine, and I guess I depended on him to know the meaning of most every word there was. I found "evolution" and his meaning for it. Webster said a number of things about evolution that didn't seem to fit. He talked about development and growth, about movement of troops in marching or on the battlefield, and about arithmetic and algebra. None of those meanings made sense when I connected them with the Foggelson books. Then he said, "The gradual development or descent of forms of life from simple or low organized types consisting of a single cell"
I still couldn't understand it. I tossed the words around in my mind all the time that I was choring, but I never did get them sorted out.
After supper was over and we'd had our Bible reading together, I again pulled out Webster's dictionary. I read it over again, but I still couldn't get the meaning, so I let my eyes travel down the page a bit and checked some other words, hoping that that would help. "Evolutional" was pertaining to evolution. That sure didn't help me any, and then I read through the lengthy explanation of "evolutionist" until I came to the part that said, "The theory that man is a development from a lower order of creation; a teacher or advocate of Darwinism"
I read it again. Surely no one really believed that man "developed" that way. Why, that wasn't anywhere near what the Bible said. I may not have listened to preachers as much as I should have, but I had listened enough to know how man came into being, and how they had gotten to their sorry state of sinfulness, too.
Before closing Webster up again, I got a stub of a pencil and a piece of paper and wrote down the words from the printed page. I needed to do some thinking about this and talk to Mr. Foggelson and Camellia. Did the fact that they weren't churchgoers mean that they had never heard how things really happened? I couldn't believe that someone could have missed out so completely on the facts.
I wasn't sure whether I should make use of Uncle Nat's help on this or not, but I hated to bother him with my problem. I knew he had plenty of his own-and other peoples'.
Gramps and I had a chance for some checker games that weekend. The weather was stormy and cold, and it didn't make much sense to go out in it unless one had a good reason for going. So Uncle Charlie and Grandpa spent some time working on harness mending and drinking coffee, and Gramps and I read and played checkers.
Gramps beat me, which wasn't unusual. He had won three games before I pushed the board back a bit and stood to stretch.
"Mind not on the game, Joshua?" he quizzed me.
I grinned. "You'most always beat me:' l answered good-naturedly. "Can't always blame it on my mind bein' elsewhere"
"No not always-but this time I think we can"
I stopped my grinning. "Maybe so," I admitted, and sat back down again.
"Just thinkin' on some of my studies. Been reading some real interestin' books. Lots of new things to learn-new ideas. Some of them I understand, some I don't."
"Like?" said Gramps.
"Well, like-like-well, evolution"
I expected I would have to stop and explain the word to Gramps, and my hand started into my pocket to pull out the paper I had written Webster's words on, but Gramps surprised me.
"Hogwash!" he said with sort of a snort.
My eyes popped wide open.
"Pure hogwash;' Gramps said again, and I knew he felt pretty sure of himself.
"What's it all about anyway?" I asked him.
Gramps didn't even hesitate.
"This man, Darwin, got these funny ideas of where man came fromwhere everything came from;' he said. "He saw the similarity in the animals and birds and fish, and decided that they had a common source:"
I nodded.
"Well, he was right;' went on Gramps to my surprise; "they do have a commo
n source. A common Creator. Only thing is Darwin got mixed up about the beginnings. He thought that because this `common' bond, this thread, ran through all creatures, the one came from the other. He decided that he knew more about things than anyone else who ever lived and threw out what the Good Book said about God creating all things in the beginning. Got himself in a heap of trouble, because try as he did to make all the pieces fit, he never did get them untangled.
"But others jumped on that theory and they too kept trying to come up with `proofs' for what they thought they found. They haven't let it die yet. Been lots of books written on it and some places now teach Darwin's theory as if it were fact. Don't let it throw you, Joshua. It still is theory. No facts have proved it yet-and they never will. What God has said still stands. Remember that. God was the only one around at the time, so I'm willing to take His word on just how it all happened:'
I guess I took a deep breath. Gramps stopped his talking and his eyes pinned me down.
"That new teacher been trying to teach you evolution?"
"Not in school, no," I said quickly.
"Then where'd you get this stuff?"
"Camellia gave me a book for Christmas an'-" I hated to lay the blame on Camellia.
Gramps just nodded.
"Her pa is letting me read his library books. I found the same thing in them, and Camellia says that-"
"Don't you believe it," Gramps cut in. "Not one word of it"
I nodded and swallowed hard. It was a relief to me to have some solid ground under my feet again.
With my beliefs about creation and the Creator securely intact again, I felt an obligation to pass on my knowledge to Camellia.
The next Thursday when we settled ourselves to study after having our tea and those messy little pastries, I brought up the subject.
"You know those books;' I began, trying to choose my words carefully, "well, they are a bit mixed up on things"
"What books?" she asked me.
I didn't want to come across as a know-it-all, but I did feel that Camellia should know the truth.
"The ones on evolution;' I said hesitantly.
"Mixed up? How?" she asked.
"That's not the way things really happened," I stated firmly. "The Bible has it all in here;' and I pulled my Bible out from under my sweater and proceeded to open it to Genesis, chapter one.
"Oh, Josh;' Camellia said, playfully pushing at my hand that held the Book. "Don't tease"
I blinked.
Camellia was entertaining herself in silvery gales of laughter.
"I'm not teasin;' I finally said, my voice low and serious.
Camellia's laughter died then and she looked at me, her face wearing a look of total disbelief.
"You're not?"
"No, I'm not. See? It's all right here. Nothing evolved. God created everything"
"You don't really believe that?"
"I do-I most certainly do. And you would, too, if you'd just read what it says. See-"
"But it doesn't make sense. I mean-"
"Evolution doesn't make sense," I countered rather hotly. "Why would things `evolve' when their present state was not nearly as demanding? Why-"
"Oh, Joshua-think! Don't just fall dumbly for those old superstitions that have been passed down from generation to generation. We are enlightened now! No one who is a scholar believes that Bible gibberish:"
I looked at her in silence, my thumb still held in the page I had wanted to show her.
"You know what it says?" I finally asked.
"Of course I know what it says. Papa taught me all about the false statements that are in there so I might know how to refute them."
"You don't believe the Bible?" I asked in amazement. I could not understand how anyone could possibly know what was written in its pages and still not believe what it said.
Camellia stood up and came slowly to me. She was no longer smiling, but she had a soft, pleading look about her now, like a woman placating a spoiled or sensitive child.
"Look, Joshua;' she said, "we understand that this is hard for you, being raised in the church and-and-well, we are willing to take it slowly-to help you to understand. That's why Papa has given you the use of his library. With scientific data at your disposal, you will discover the truth for yourself. You have a good mind, Joshua. Papa is most pleased with it. I am proud of you. You can be anything you want to be. There is no limit, Joshua."
"I'm gonna be a preacher," I said quietly.
"But anybody can be a preacher;' Camellia moaned. "Can't you see?"
I shut my Bible with a slam I had never used on it before and immediately felt ashamed of myself. Unconsciously I reopened it and closed it tenderly.
"I'm afraid I don't see;' I said to Camellia.
"Well, Papa said that you have potential. More potential than any student he has ever had. He will help you make something worthwhile of yourself if only-"
"An' you were helping him?" I asked coldly.
"Of course." The words were out before Camellia realized what she'd said. She caught herself and flushed. "Well, not the way you mean. I like you, Joshua, I do-"
"I think I'd better go;' I said, feeling all mixed up inside. I couldn't understand all of this, but I didn't like it. Not one bit. I moved to the door, but Camellia was there before me. She faced me, with cheeks flushed and her eyes sparking angrily. Even then I was aware of how pretty she was.
"Joshua;' she said, "if you go like this-just up and walk out in a ragecan't you see what it will do to my father? Hasn't he suffered enough already? He lost his position in his last school-a good position-just because he tried to help some capable students understand science, true science. And now you are going to-to spurn his help and-"
I had stopped. I couldn't very well push her aside and force my way out of her home.
"Don't you see," she went on. "He just wants to help you."
"By takin' away the truth-and makin' me believe a lie?"
"I cant believe this, Joshua;' she said hotly. "You have a good mind. How can you just accept everything that they tell you-without thinking it through or anything."
"But don't you see;' I replied, "that is what you've done. I mean, just because you love your pa, you believe whatever he tells you without even having proof. The Bible has been proved over and over, and it never comes up short with pieces all missin' and-"
Camellia moved away from the door. Her eyes were dark with rage.
"If you go now," she said through tight lips, "don't ever come back:"
I nodded my head, my throat workin' hard on a swallow. I wanted to invite her to church. I wanted to say that I'd pray that she might learn the truth. I wanted to say that I was sorry-for-for how everything had turned out, but I couldn't find my voice to say anything, so I just nodded and left.
That heavy lump in my chest stayed with me as I made my way home. My feet dragged, and the short distance had never seemed so long before.
CHAPTER 18
Hard Days
The next morning, after a restless night, I wished with all of my heart that I could just stay in bed and not ever go to school again. I knew Aunt Lou would soon be in my room fussing over me if I was even late getting up, so I reluctantly crawled out and made my usual preparations. I sure didn't want Aunt Lou fretting about me for fear it might cause some kind of harm to the coming baby.
I dressed and washed at the kitchen basin and slicked down my hair good enough to do. We had our breakfast together, Uncle Nat telling Aunt Lou his plans for the day. I was glad I didn't need to enter the conversation much.
In no hurry at all to get to school, I sort of dawdled along until I heard the bell ring. I had never been late for school before and I found myself running now. I didn't want a "tardy" mark on my report card.
Most of the kids had already hung up their coats and shoved and pushed their way into the classroom by the time I arrived, puffing from my run. I hurriedly threw my jacket at my hanger and, fortunately, it stuck. I picked up my b
ooks and my lunch bucket and hurried to my place. I almost ran smack into Camellia in the hall. I guess we both got red. Me, from embarrassment. From the way she sniffed and flung back her long, silken hair, I guessed her redness was from anger.
I stumbled my way to my desk and got out my Dickens like I was supposed to do.
There were no flashing smiles across the room, no waiting at the door just to walk out into the schoolyard with me. I tried not to even look her way, and I suppose she tried not to look mine.
Mr. Foggelson did not call on me to recite or give an answer all day long. In fact, I might as well not have been there for all I was noticed.
The fellas must have realized something was up. At recess time their teasing took a new tack. "What happened, josh-drop all her books in the snow?" and so on. I tried to ignore them, but it was pretty hard to hide the fact that things were different now.
When school was over for the day, I breathed a sigh of relief, ready to hurriedly slip from the school building and run for home. But Mr. Foggelson's voice stopped me. He hadn't used the raised eyebrow trick, and I had been sure I was going to be able to slip off without a confrontation. Now his soft-spoken call of my name stopped me mid-stride.
I turned slowly, half hoping I was only hearing things. I wasn't. There stood my teacher beside my desk, the chalk brush in his hand and his eyes on me.
I retraced my steps slowly.
"You-you wished to see me, sir?" I said after swallowing two or three times.
"Yes, Joshua:" He pointed to my seat.
I sat down, somewhat glad that I didn't need to stand. On the other hand, I knew I wouldn't be able to bolt for the door from a sitting position, and I sure did wish I could bolt.
Mr. Foggelson laid aside the brush and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his hands. The actions were slow and deliberate and I waited, wishing to get this over.
"Camellia tells me that you and she had an unfortunate little misunderstanding last evening;' he said slowly. He waited for me to acknowledge his words and I finally found my voice.
"I don't think so, sir;' I said respectfully.