Seasons of the Heart: Omnibus

by Janette Oke

  Decisions

  "Have you decided yet?"

  Willie's insistent voice demanded my attention. I swiveled around to get a look at him, for the words didn't make any sense to me at all.

  "What do you plan to do-after graduation?" he prodded. "Are you gonna be a minister-or what?"

  Or what? my mind echoed in frustration. What?

  I had been asking myself the same question over and over, just as Willie was asking me now. And I still didn't have an answer. Graduation was only a month away, and it seemed that I was the only one in our small town school who didn't know exactly what to do with life after the big day. It wasn't that I hadn't given it a thought. In fact, I thought about it most of the time. I prayed about it, too, and my family members kept assuring me that they were praying as well. But I still didn't have an answer to Willie's question, except to say honestly, "No-I don't know yet:" And I'd been saying that for a long, long time.

  I must have been frowning, and I guess Willie understood my dilemma. He didn't wait for my answer-not in words, anyway; instead he went right on talking.

  "God has different timing for different people, and with a reason;' he mused. "That doesn't mean that He hasn't got your future planned out. When it's time-"

  I quit listening for a minute, and my mind jumped to other things. Willie already had his future clearly mapped out. God had called him to be a missionary; Willie would leave for a Bible school in the Eastern United States at the end of the summer. I envied Willie, I guess. "It must be a real relief to know what God wants you to do," I muttered under my breath.

  "I still can't believe it;' Willie was saying when I tuned back in. "I mean, most of my life-at least what I can remember of it-I've been goin' to school, day after day. And here we are about to graduate. I just can't believe it! It doesn't seem real to me yet"

  I twitched my fishing pole as if I were trying to stir up some fish. Actually I was just thinking about Willie's words. It did seem strange. We had done a great deal of talking over the years about how glad we would be to graduate and leave the old school behind, and here we were on the brink of graduation and I didn't really feel glad about it at all. In fact, I felt rather scared. I never would have dared to tell any of the fellas how I was feelingwe always crowed about the day that we'd be freed from "prison:" We'd run and holler and toss our caps in the air. I knew we'd have to do it to carry on the tradition. A fella was supposed to loathe school and be more than glad to be rid of it, but at the same time I got a funny feeling down in the pit of my stomach whenever I thought about graduation.

  I mulled over Willie's words and squirmed on the creek bank, pretending to have a kink in my back from sitting in one spot for so long waiting on a fish to decide he was hungry. I wiggled my pole again and noticed that I'd lost the bait off the hook. I hoped Willie didn't notice. I didn't feel much like fishing anymore and I didn't want to be bothered with baiting my hook again. Still, I wasn't ready to head for the house yet, either.

  I couldn't remember much about life without school, just like Willie had said. When I was honest with myself, I knew I'd miss the daily lessons, the recesses, the access to books. Maybe I'd miss it a whole lot, but I wasn't about to share my thoughts with anyone-not even Willie.

  `Course, Willie needn't worry, I reminded myself, almost enviously. Come fall, he'll be off to a new school, new books, and new friends. I squirmed again.

  "Here," said Willie, "lean against this stump for a while:"

  "Naw," I responded slowly, casting a glance at the sky. "It's almost time for chores anyway. And the fish sure aren't bitin' today."

  Willie's eyes twinkled the way they did when he was trying to hold back something that made him want to laugh. I had seen the same look on his face when our teacher held his book upside down when lecturing to the class, and when Agatha Marshall took a bite of her sandwich and ate the ant that had been crawling on it, and when we tied Avery's shoelaces together as he lounged on the school grass waiting for the bell to ring.

  I looked at Willie suspiciously now.

  "Never seen fish bite without bait, Josh;' he said, the twinkle openly showing in a grin now. "You haven't had bait on that hook for the last half hour;' Willie informed me with a chuckle.

  "So why didn't you tell me?" I threw at him, trying to sound miffed.

  Willie sobered. "Didn't think you cared about fishin' Your thoughts have been off someplace else all day"

  I jerked up my empty hook and set about wiping it carefully on the grass and removing it from the line. Willie let me work in silence until I had finished with my fishing gear.

  "You still bothered about Camellia?" he finally ventured as we picked up our gear and started down the trail to the farm.

  "Camellia?" My head swung up at her name.

  Willie held my eyes with a steady gaze. The question was still there, unanswered. I couldn't hide much from him, and I sure did need someone to talk to. I decided to stop playing games.

  "I guess so-a little. I mean, here we are, almost finished with schooland I've been praying and praying, and trying an' trying to show Camellia that the Bible is right, no matter what her pa says, an' she still won't even listen to a thing I have to say. She'll be done with school, too, Willie, and then she plans to move off somewhere and take some training to be a decorator-"

  "Interior designer;' Willie corrected.

  "Interior designer;" I amended with a shrug. "Who knows who she'll meet or what she'll get herself into in some god-forsaken city somewhere-"

  "New York;' said Willie. "Her pa says New York. If you wanta learn from the best, then you need to go to New York."

  "New York? That's even worse than I thought!" I raged. "That's about as wicked a city as there is:"

  Willie just nodded his head solemnly.

  We trudged on in silence, me wrestling with the idea of Camellia alone in a city like New York. Then Willie cut into my thoughts again.

  "You still care about her, josh?"

  For some reason the question caught me wrong. Of course I cared about Camellia! She was a friend, wasn't she? And we were commanded to care about-or love-everyone, weren't we? Willie knew the Bible as well as I did. He knew I was supposed to care about Camellia.

  "That's a dumb question!" I threw at Willie. "We're supposed to care. I've been praying for Camellia for years now-Nat and Lou have been praying, too. We all-"

  "That's not what I mean, josh, an' you know it," Willie cut in. "Do you still like Camellia?"

  I wasn't prepared to answer that. In the first place I didn't see that it was any of Willie's business, even if he was my friend. In the second place, though I didn't want to think about it at the moment, I wasn't sure of the answer myself. Did I still care for Camellia-as a girl, not as just a human? I had given up any special friendship with Camellia because she and I did not have the same spiritual values. In fact, Camellia declared that anything to do with religion was silly and superstitious. She didn't even believe that God existed, she said. Religion was a crutch for insecure people. But I believed with all my heart that God not only existed but had sent His Son to die for me, for my wrongdoings, and that He had a special plan for my life. How could I even consider a special relationship with Camellia? I couldn't, I knew, but I kept hoping and praying that Camellia would become a believer and then-then-Now, here we were at school's end, and still Camellia would not even listen to my side of the argument. There was more than one reason why graduation bothered me.

  Willie did not pursue the question.

  "Are you coming to town for the social tomorrow night?" he asked.

  It was a church social-one of the few activities meant just for our age group, and they were always fun. Aunt Lou and Uncle Nat saw to that. Several teenagers from town had started coming to church as a result of the socials that Uncle Nat organized. Most of the young people eagerly anticipated the monthly socials, and I enjoyed them, too. At any other time I would have answered Willie with an enthusiastic, "Sure, I'll be there," but instea
d I mumbled, "I'll see"

  "Well, sure hope you can make it" Willie shifted his pole and the one fish he had caught into his left hand so he'd have his right one free to untie his horse from the hitching rail.

  I hadn't been very good company, and suddenly I felt ashamed because of it. It wasn't Willie's fault that Camellia still wasn't a believer, and it wasn't Willie's fault that I still didn't know what God wanted me to do with my life, and it wasn't Willie's fault that graduation was quickly approaching with its unsettled questions. Willie had no more control of the ticking clock than I did. I had no right to be owly and disagreeable with Willie.

  I tried hard to shift my troubled thoughts to the back of my mind and bid my friend the kind of goodbye he deserved.

  "Thanks, Willie," I said, and then didn't quite know how to finish. "Thanks for coming out."

  I saw the twinkle in Willie's eye again.

  "Sorry the fish weren't biting."

  "Next time I might even try using a little bait;" I teased back. "Though at least now I don't have fish to clean and can loaf a bit before chorin:"

  Willie looked down at the one fish that dangled beside his saddle. A mock frown crossed his face.

  "I think I might just stop off and present a fish to Mary Turley;' he said, "and invite her to the social tomorrow night." I wasn't sure if Willie was serious or not.

  We both laughed and Willie moved his horse off down the lane.

  "See you tomorrow night, josh," he called back to me.

  I answered as he knew I would. "I'll be there"

  CHAPTER 2

  The Social

  That next night I hurried through my chores and ran for my bedroom to bathe and change. After adjusting my tie and slicking down my hair, I picked up my jacket and started down the stairs, avoiding the step with the worst creak.

  "Big night tonight, Boy?"

  The question came from Grandpa. He and Uncle Charlie were sitting at the kitchen table going over some farm bills together.

  I grinned. I guess the night was no bigger than any other social night, but it still was pretty special to me. I nodded.

  "Nat says the Youth Group is really growin'," continued Grandpa.

  I nodded again, then added, "'Bout twenty of us now."

  "That's good;' said Grandpa. "Any of the new ones comin' to church too?"

  "Yeah, three of 'em are."

  "Good!" said Grandpa again.

  Uncle Charlie took a gulp of coffee and let the legs of his chair hit the worn kitchen linoleum with a dull thud. He looked me over carefully, from the crease in my best pants to the straight part of my hair. Then he nodded, as though I passed inspection.

  "Enjoy youth, Joshua," Grandpa said. "The cares of adulthood will be upon ya soon enough"

  I couldn't help but smile. Grandpa knew little about youth. If he thought that I wouldn't have any worries or concerns until I stepped out into the adult world, he was all wrong. Or he had forgotten. He had no idea about the things I had been grappling with lately. But I let it pass as though the only thought in my mind was a night of games and singing, followed by some of Lou's punch and cake. But at Grandpa's words I could feel my mood change somewhat. I wasn't in quite the same hurry that I had been a few minutes before.

  Uncle Charlie's sharp eyes were on me again. He was searching for something, I knew. I mustered a grin and moved out of his range. I didn't want to be answering any questions. Not that Uncle Charlie would ask-not outright, anyway-but I felt the probing and had always squirmed some under it.

  "I shouldn't be too late," I said as a parting remark of some kind. They knew I'd come straight home as soon as the social was over, and that it would be well chaperoned by Uncle Nat and Aunt Lou.

  "Take yer time. Have fun," Grandpa responded.

  The thought of Aunt Lou filled me with a bit of concern. Her baby was due in a couple of weeks, and after what had happened with her first baby I was uneasy about her. Over and over she assured me that there was no need to worry. She had lost little Amanda because she had had the measles during the pregnancy. Aunt Lou had been the picture of health all through this one. Doc had told her over and over that the baby seemed healthy and energetic. He was predicting a strong baby boy, but Aunt Lou still had her heart set on another daughter, and I guess I secretly hoped for a girl, too.

  In the barn I was greeted by Chester, the beautiful bay that Grandpa and Uncle Charlie had surprised me with on my last birthday. I still couldn't believe that such a horse was really mine. I patted his shining round rump and reached for the saddle. He nickered at me and rubbed his nose against my chest looking for a treat from my pocket.

  "Cut that out," I scolded him. "You'll mess my Sunday clothes!" But he didn't care about that; he went right on sniffing and blowing. I moved so he couldn't reach me and smoothed the blanket for the saddle.

  I walked Chester out of the barn, closed the door securely, and mounted. Chester was eager to be on the road, even if I had forgotten to bring him his sugar lump or bit of apple. I had to rein him in to keep him from leaving the farmyard on a dead run. Grandpa didn't take too kindly to running animals, but it sure was tempting when I was up on Chester. He loved to run, and his strong legs and smooth body fairly trembled with excitement whenever he was turned toward the road.

  It was a warm spring night. The sun was still lighting my way, but I knew that by the time I returned home it would be dark. Chester could find his way back to his stall in total darkness if need be, but it would be nicer traveling by moonlight. Only a few carelessly drifting clouds crossed the sky; the moon should give some light later on.

  My thoughts turned back to the social, and I wondered if there would be any new young people there. Wouldn't it be something if Camellia decided to come! Maybe if more of the girls her age ... I thought. But there were several girls Camellia's age who attended, and that had never influenced her before. Nothing, in fact, seemed to influence Camellia in favor of coming to church.

  As I began going over the list of who might be in attendance, my eagerness to get there increased. Chester must have sensed my feelings, for before I knew it we were racing down the dusty road at a reckless pace. I reined Chester in, and he snorted in disgust. He tossed his head and pranced along the roadway, fighting against the bit while I busied myself trying to brush the dust from my dress clothes.

  In spite of my intentions to be there early, young people were already milling about when I entered the churchyard. I tied Chester securely and called out hellos as I hurried to the parsonage to see if I could help Aunt Lou with any last-minute preparations.

  "Josh!" she called out excitedly. "Good to see you! How are things at the farm?"

  Aunt Lou always greeted me as though we hadn't seen one another for months, when the fact was that I had left town to stay at the farm only the day before.

  "Fine," I responded. "Just fine. How are you?"

  Aunt Lou looked down at her expanding front. She placed a hand tenderly on the growing baby and smiled at me.

  "We are both just fine, aren't we, honey?" she said to her unborn child.

  I smiled. Aunt Lou talked to her baby all the time. I was used to it by now. And she did look fine-her eyes shone and her cheeks glowed.

  "Is there anything I can do to help?" I asked.

  "Everything is already done. Nat is over at the church and we carried all of the refreshments over earlier"

  "I'm sorry I was so late-" I began, but Aunt Lou stopped me.

  "You're not late. Everyone else is just early. Impatient to get started, I guess. My, how this group has grown! I hardly know how much food to fix anymore."

  I could tell by the smile on Aunt Lou's face that she was pleased to have such a problem.

  We walked the short distance across the churchyard together. Other young people were arriving, calling excitedly back and forth.

  I was lounging on the outside steps talking to some of the fellas when a rig rounded the corner and headed our way. At first I thought it must be someone n
ew, and then I recognized Willie. Willie never drove; he always rode horseback, same as me. It was Willie, all right-and he wasn't alone, either.

  For a moment none of us spoke. We just stood there gawking as Willie climbed down and tied the horse, and then reached a hand up to help a girl step down. She was wearing a full-skirted pink dress and she had her hair piled up on her head with little curls spilling down here and there. She looked familiar, yet I couldn't place her. Willie had tied his horse some distance away from the steps where we waited. We all stood there, straining to figure out who Willie was with.

  "By jingo!" hissed Tom Newton, "it's Mary Turley-an' all dolled up, too:'

  It can't be, I thought. Surely he wasn't serious! But, sure enough, there was of Willie leading Mary Turley up the walkway to the church.

  I wanted to laugh, to howl at Willie. My first impulse was to slap him on the back and tease him some, but I didn't. I stood there quietly and watched.

  Mary had certainly changed! And so had Willie-he was so spiffed up and shining I scarcely knew him. And he seemed so gentlemanly and grown-up too. All of us were put to silence by it all, and I bet other fellas besides me were wondering why we hadn't thought of inviting Mary ourselves.

  Mary smiled shyly at us as she brushed by, and Willie gave me just the slightest wink. I was sure no one else had seen it, but I caught it, just as I caught that twinkle in his eye.

  Avery gave me a hard jab in the ribs that made me gasp for air, and then we all shuffled and moved on the steps and made an about-face as we followed Willie and Mary into the church.

  We found some places to sit. As usual, the girls sorta lined up in the seats on the south side of the building and the fellas took the seats on the north. All except Willie, that is. He seated Mary alongside Martha Ingrim, but instead of coming over to the boys, he sat down right beside her!

  Uncle Nat took charge of the meeting, calling it to order by welcoming everyone and having first-timers introduced. There was another new girl from town too, but she had come with Thelma and Virginia Brown, so none of us paid much attention.