He breathed in deeply and looked down at the dead man. “I don’t know what Mack held most dear. I guess in some ways he was trying to figure life out just like the rest of us.” He looked from face to face in the chapel. “I hope he knew what I’m telling you, that nothing beats being part of God’s kingdom. No matter what earthly thing you’re chasing after—money, property, position, or power—none of it will matter once your name is written in this book for the last time.”
Serepta felt as though the pearls at her throat were choking her. She had worn them every day since she purchased them. They were nearly a part of her now. She looked from Mack to Emmaline wiggling beside her. She had failed her son. She wasn’t sure how exactly, but the truth of the matter washed over her and left her feeling empty. Webb had murdered Mack, but she’d lost him a long time ago. Maybe when she ignored his advice about natural gas. Maybe when she sent him away to school. Maybe when she focused on Jake as heir of all she’d built, leaving Mack to find his own way. Or maybe it was before any of that.
She laid a hand on Emmaline’s curly head, and the child stilled under her caress. Had she ever stroked her son’s hair? If she had, she couldn’t remember it.
As Colman finished the service, she looked around the chapel. She’d never set foot in here before and didn’t suppose she would again, unless it was for her own funeral. Who would speak words over her? Most likely someone who knew her as little as Colman knew Mack.
She noticed the few members of the Harpe clan seated in the back. Who would have thought? Maybe she really could let the feud die. Perhaps if she scaled back on the bootleg business and focused more on coal . . . without Charlie or her sons to help run things, that would make the most sense. Then Webb would be free to start taking over the territory she released. She could loosen her grip and let him move in without saying a word. She could just let it happen.
She felt a tug on her sleeve. “Momma, are you sad about Mack?” Emmaline asked, her dark eyes holding more compassion than seemed possible in one so young.
Serepta considered the question. “Yes. I am sad. I wish . . .” She left the thought unfinished.
“What do you wish?”
Serepta stood and tugged Emmaline to her feet. “Wishes are for weak people who are too busy looking backwards to make plans for what lies ahead.” Emmaline frowned. “So my plan is for the future. I plan to do better by you than I did by Mack.”
She stepped up to the coffin, reached forward, then pulled her hand back.
“Are you allowed to touch him?” asked Emmaline.
“Yes.” And with that, Serepta reached in to touch her son’s soft hair. Then she unclasped her pearls and let them fall against the satin lining of the coffin.
chapter
thirty-seven
With the funeral behind him and Ivy beside him, Colman finally gave in to the community’s desire for a baptizing. After Webb and Serepta’s confrontation and the ensuing rescue, folks seemed more than happy to let the feud begin a gradual slide into the past. Colman hoped that a joint baptizing would reinforce whatever goodwill had risen to the surface. He planned to dunk folks in the New River near Alderson, which was more McLean territory than Harpe but close enough to neutral ground.
When he’d been preaching Mack’s funeral, those stories had just come to him. And when they did, he’d realized they were for him as much as anyone. He’d finally done what God had asked by preaching to the McLeans, but he’d been doing it like it was some foul-tasting medicine he had to get down. And then he’d heard the truth coming from his own mouth—the kingdom of heaven was worth any sacrifice. Even forgiving his enemies and maybe, just maybe, learning to love them. When Jake made him realize he’d lost his taste for revenge, he came to see that he couldn’t wish hell on anyone. He guessed God loved them all—even Serepta McLean.
And so he would baptize anyone who wanted it. Not because he had the power to save them, but because God did, and he’d invited Colman to work alongside Him. Shoot, he’d almost refused to accept that pearl of great price.
Lena and the other ladies rounded up quite a crowd. And Johnny and Elam brought a contingent from Thurmond. Nell was there, making eyes at Walter Harpe, Colman’s third cousin and a strapping fellow of twenty-two. Maybe Lena would see her daughter wed to a Harpe yet.
Some of the older fellows, including Hoyt, sat on a fallen log at the back of the crowd. Ivy greeted them before coming to stand beside Colman. “When you told us you’d come to preach to the McLeans, I wasn’t sure what to think.” She looked up at him from under the brim of her hat. “I’m sorry I didn’t have more faith in you.”
Colman shrugged. “If you’d had faith in me, it would have been misplaced. I’ve dragged my heels every step of the way. Guess I’m harder headed than I realized.”
She laughed, and her face lit like sunshine through frosted glass. “It’s good, what’s happening here today. Harpes and McLeans coming together in faith. How many do you expect to baptize?”
“I’m not sure,” Colman said. “Of course, the main person I was supposed to draw to God isn’t even here.”
Ivy looked over his shoulder. “If it’s who I think it is, she’s coming now.”
Colman turned and saw Serepta step out of her car, followed by Emmaline, who bounced past her and ran to throw her arms around Ivy. “I’m getting nap-tized today.”
Colman tried to hide his shock. “You are? Does Serepta know that?” He felt Ivy dig an elbow into his side as the woman herself approached.
“Momma said I could.”
Colman glanced at Serepta before crouching down to the child’s level. “Do you know what it means, being baptized?”
Emmaline took a deep breath. “It means when I die I’ll get to be with Jesus.”
“And who is Jesus?” Colman asked.
“He’s the only good man ever. If I love Him, He’ll watch over me.”
Colman guessed he’d seen folks baptized who understood it less. He looked at Serepta, who raised her chin a notch as though daring him to refuse this child.
“And you?” he said, feeling hope leap in his chest. Had he actually accomplished the task God set for him?
“Perhaps another time,” she said with a twist of her lips. “I haven’t quite made my mind up to trust any man—even a perfect one.”
Ivy linked her arm through Serepta’s. “One day,” she said. “Your heart is getting softer.”
Serepta snorted and reached for the neckline of her blouse, then let her hand fall away. “You assume I have a heart.”
Ivy caressed Emmaline’s cheek. “Oh, but you do. Here it is.”
Serepta wasn’t sure she could stand this. Wasn’t it enough that she’d brought the child? Wasn’t it enough that she was mingling with all these common people here on the bank of the river? How much more would they ask of her?
She had little hope that her own life could be set to rights, but she would do everything in her power to ensure Emmaline had every opportunity to be loved—to be safe. Serepta believed in God, sure enough. She just wasn’t convinced God could ever have any use for her—He certainly hadn’t up to this point. She looked at Emmaline, cheeks pink and eyes bright. At least He hadn’t before the day this child came into her life.
Thankfully, Colman and Ivy started down toward the river to organize the baptizing, taking Emmaline with them. Colman held his hands in the air, spoke a few words to the people, and began praying. Serepta couldn’t hear him, but she didn’t suppose it mattered. One set of ears more or less made no difference. She cast her gaze across the crowd, noting people she knew and those she didn’t. That was when she saw a woman walking from the road down to the river. She was carrying an infant. Ivy saw them and rushed over to gather the child in her arms. They circled the crowd and came to stand near Serepta. As she listened to their chatter, she realized the woman was Maggie, the one whose child Ivy had delivered.
Focusing on the people stepping into the river so Colman could dunk them one b
y one, she turned an ear to the women’s conversation.
“Webb’s come ’round. He set me and the baby up in a little house at the far end of the tracks. It ain’t fancy, but it’s better than working in Ballyhack. Says he’ll help me get a job when William’s older.” Maggie looked tired but pleased. “It’s more than I’d hoped for.”
Ivy kissed the babe’s downy head. “I was hoping William would be a consolation for Webb. You can’t replace your own child, but having a grandchild may soften the blow a little.”
Maggie elbowed her. “When you gonna have a young’un of your own?”
Serepta saw Ivy turn and focus on Colman, who even now was tenderly dipping Emmaline beneath the surface of the water. “Maybe one day,” Ivy said. She looked hopeful, and Serepta wondered if the preacher and the healer might find the kind of match that had eluded her. She realized with surprise that she hoped so.
Emmaline, hair and clothes sopping wet, came tearing up the riverbank to where they stood. “Momma, Momma, I did it! I belong to Jesus now.”
Serepta opened her mouth to correct her, to say, No, Emmaline, you belong to me, but then checked herself. Instead, she managed a smile and moved to wrap a towel around the girl.
Ivy crouched down to show baby William to Emmaline. The two gazed at each other—Webb’s grandchild and Serepta’s new daughter. Emmaline touched the baby’s cheek. “He’s so little.”
“No smaller than you were when you were born,” Ivy said.
Emmaline looked up at Serepta. “Is that true, Momma? Was I this small?”
Serepta felt the honest answer would be to say she didn’t know, she hadn’t been there, but she decided she could do better than that. She knelt down and drew the wet child to her.
Colman scanned the riverbank to see if there was anyone else in want of baptizing. He felt humbled and maybe even shamed. He had tried so hard to avoid this calling. Nearly died inside that endless cave because he ran away. And now God was using him to reap a harvest of peace and salvation. He’d nearly missed this.
No one else approached, and some folks had already headed home, where dry clothes and warm food awaited. He hoped Ivy and Hoyt were still here. They might take him home with them and feed him, too. He had something in particular he wanted to discuss with Hoyt.
He saw Ivy’s grandfather talking to Elam and let his gaze continue until he spotted the small cluster of women in the distance. Ivy held Maggie’s baby while Serepta knelt in the grass, speaking to Emmaline. Of course, if he aimed his ears in that direction, he could pick up what she was saying.
“I was not there when you were born, but you almost certainly were as small as William.” Serepta—the woman he’d thought of as his enemy for so long—paused as she cupped the child’s face. “I may not have been with you when you were born, but I am with you now. And I will be with you for as long as I live. I promise.”
Emmaline threw her arms around Serepta’s neck, and the woman he’d always seen as cold and hard returned the hug, folding her own compact frame around the child’s as though to protect her from anything that might come.
And Colman heard a voice—not in his ears or even his mind, but in his heart: “Go ye therefore, and teach all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost: Teaching them to observe all things whatsoever I have commanded you: and, lo, I am with you always, even unto the end of the world.”
He nodded his head and slogged to the bank, a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He’d thought his work here was done. He’d thought he was free to go home to Thurmond and make his own plans. But now he knew God still had work for him to do.
He took off his shoes and poured water from them onto the thirsty ground. He felt strong. Powerful. Not because of anything he had done, but because he finally realized God would use him wherever he went. He slipped his shoes back on and made his way toward the women and the children, facing his future head-on—whatever it might be.
Author’s Note
Up until now, I’ve set my stories in imaginary towns that look a whole lot like the places where I grew up. I steered clear of real places so that no one could accuse me of getting them wrong.
Not this time.
Thurmond is real. As are Hinton, White Sulphur Springs, the Big Bend Tunnel, and other places named in this story. Of course, while Thurmond was a thriving railroad town at the turn of the twentieth century, today it boasts seven residents. They take turns serving as mayor. So, if I get some things wrong, there are fewer folks to take umbrage.
I will confess here and now to taking some liberties in placing facts along my timeline. The burning of the Dunglen Hotel in 1930 is pivotal to the story, so everything unfolds that spring into fall. But I “borrowed” some tidbits from the town’s earlier, wilder years. For example, Alden Butterfield was the first manager of the Dunglen Hotel when it opened in 1901 but was long gone by 1930. I just couldn’t resist that name! And while Harrison Ash was a notorious police chief for Thurmond, he died in 1924, well before my story begins. However, his physical description (down to the Stetson hat) and the fact that his wife was tried for murder when she shot another man while aiming for her husband are accurate.
There were also some wild stories I couldn’t quite squeeze into the novel. Like when a man jumped from the railroad bridge to his death in the river below. After his body was recovered downstream, the mayor fined him the contents of his pockets for the crime of committing suicide within the town limits.
I had the pleasure of visiting Thurmond, which is now largely owned by the National Park Service, in the company of Dave Fuerst. A park ranger, historian, curator, and all-around gracious gentleman, Dave led me on a guided tour “behind the scenes” of what is essentially a ghost town. I’m so very grateful for how he made it possible for me to walk around inside my story. It’s definitely given me a taste for setting stories in real places!
If you’d like to learn more about Thurmond or, better yet, visit, go to www.ThurmondWV.org. You can also visit the National Park Service site for the New River Gorge for information about a walking tour.
Sarah Loudin Thomas is a fund-raiser for a children’s ministry who has time to write because she doesn’t have children of her own. She holds a bachelor’s degree in English from Coastal Carolina University and is the author of the acclaimed novels The Sound of Rain and Miracle in a Dry Season—winner of the 2015 INSPY Award. Sarah has also been a finalist for the ACFW Carol Award and the Christian Book of the Year Award. She and her husband live near Asheville, North Carolina. Learn more at www.sarahloudinthomas.com.
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Table of Contents
Cover
Half Title Page
Books by Sarah Loudin Thomas
Title Page
Copyright Page
Dedication
Contents
Epigraph
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Author’s Note
About the Author
Back Ads
Back Cover
List of Pages
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