The House Near the River (8 page)

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Authors: Barbara Bartholomew

BOOK: The House Near the River
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“Then you’ll start the whole thing over next year.” Tobe shook his head. “You guys are such gamblers.”

“I like to think of us as optimists,” Matthew countered mildly. Personally he could think of no other life than
a
farmer. It was all he could endure to deal with his own company and that of the Lord’s. After his breakdown, he sure couldn’t work along side others or deal with a boss
.

Tobe scratched at the dirt with the toe
of his boot and Matthew knew he was working up to the matter that had brought him here.

“Fact is I wanted to talk to you about something,” he finally spoke in his slow drawl. Tobe had never been away from home long enough to lose a bit of his local accent. He’d been in the war for only two months when he’d been wounded and sent home with a permanent limp. He’d taken a job as deputy once he was well enough and last election had won the sheriff’s job. “Been checking everywhere I could and can’t find any sign of your lady or her little boy. It’s as if  they just dropped here out of nowhere.”

Matthew thought of Ange’s explanation that they had walked in from another time. “Nobody’s looking for them?”

Tobe shook his head. “Looks like somebody would want to find that pretty lady and fine little boy, but nobody’s reported ‘em missing. Sure got me guessing.”

Matthew nodded. “Doesn’t make sense.”

They stood without talking, Tobe staring at the dim haze above the river and Matthew studying the ground.

Finally Tobe spoke, seeming reluctant. “The thing is, I think you should consider sending her and the boy somewhere else
. Maybe she’s done something bad, maybe something dangerous and she could hurt the kids or Clemmie.”

Matthew felt anger rise in him
in
a swift tide.
He couldn’t manage to choke out a word.

“I’ll see to it that they’re taken somewhere safe.”

“No!” Matthew finally
managed to get out the one word.

“But Matthew, I know they seem like nice folks, but you just can’t tell. Maybe it isn’t them at all, but someone’s looking for them, maybe the boy’s dad, and he means them harm. You don’t want your family drawn into a mess like that.”

“I’ll look after my family, Tobe.  Don’t you worry.”

It was so unlike Matthew to blow up with anger that Tobe  looked startled. “Come on now, Matthew, be reasonable. Most likely she’s the boy’s mother and she’s taken off with him to hide him from the
dad
who is maybe violent. I don’t want Clemmie and the kids in the midst of a bad situation where they could get hurt.”

Matthew faced him with an icy gaze. “Clemmie is my sister, the kids are my nephew and nieces. They’re nothing to you.”

Tobe looked as though he’d socked him in the face. “Now Matthew, you know what I hope . . .”

“Clemmie’s said nothing to me. And in case you’re  wondering Ange is engaged to marry me and she’s remembered that her name is Angie Ward and she’s 28 years old and David is her brother, not her son.”

Tobe was suddenly the sheriff again instead of  his sister’s suitor. His face hardened. “You didn’t tell me this before.”

“I didn’t know how much she remembered and I didn’t want to upset her.”

“Known her long?”

“We met and got engaged in ’41.”

“Long time to wait to get married.”

“You didn’t notice we had a war going on?”

Tobe looked at the ground, seeming to  think about what he was
going
to say. “Some folks tell as how you came back kind of mixed up. Anybody could understand that considering what you went through. You sure you haven’t allowed this woman to sell you a bill of goods? For instance where does she come from and who are her folks
?

Matthew felt as though something was pounding against his head. He might not be sure what he believed of what Ange had told him, but he sure wouldn’t stand
still for some outsider’s questions. “What my girl has told me is none of your
affair
, Tobe, and I’d thank you to mind your own business.”

“Now Matthew, settle down and listen to reason for a minute now.”

“I got work to do. You’d better go.”

“But Matthew .  .  .”

“I said go,” Matthew hissed the words low and cold. He turned and went back to start his tractor and resume  plowing. When he came back from his round of rows,
both Tobe and his sheriff’s car were gone. He finished out the afternoon plowing, sure as he was of anything that his sister and her children were safe with Ange and David in the house.

He quit early because it was Wednesday and though he hadn’t gone to church in those first months at home, he hadn’t missed a service since he’d been able to face others again. He wasn’t sure what he believed anymore, if anything, but Harpers had been going to the same little church since his
mother and dad
first met and set up housekeeping. Not one of them would miss Sunday morning and evening services or Wednesday evening prayer meeting.

He found comfort in the sense of things going on even if his fundamental beliefs now stood on shaky grounds. Besides he was anxious for his friends and kin to meet Ange and David.

He was proud of them and wanted everyone who counted to know it.

CHAPTER SIX

They wouldn’t take no for an answer which was why Angie ended up dressed in one of Clemmie’s feed sack dresses and
stuck
i
nto the front seat of the Nash between Matthew and Clemmie, headed for Wednesday night prayer services at church. The children, including David, were piled together in the back.

No seat belts, but she tried not to worry. They drove slowly over rough dirt roads on the six miles  to church and they’d never heard of seat belts.

For the first time since she’d arrived, she was wearing face powder and a touch of the bright red lipstick that Clemmie had loaned her. Clemmie’s shoes were  too large, but she wore them anyway since she could hardly show up at church
in
running shoes that hadn’t been designed yet.

She looked, she knew from vintage pictures she’d seen, much like any housewife from the 1940s in her simple cotton dress, her shoulder-length hair only looking a little more professionally styled than her neighbors.

The church was a small white building across the road from a
stone
country school on one side and a small grocery-gas store on the other. Sensitized by her situation as a stranger in this strange place and time, she was reluctant to go in and it was helpful that David clung to her right hand and Shirley Kay to her left as they went up shaky stairs to enter the building.

Inside she found about two dozen people already gathered and singing
the familiar hymn “Amazing Grace” while a
round little
woman with white hair played the piano. Strangely the front benches were mostly empty except for three elderly men who occupied the one closest to the pulpit. Everybody else was on the back rows so that Clemmie had to lead them down the aisle to choose seats just in front of the rest of the congregation.

Angie
took a seat next to Clemmie and Matthew sat down beside her while David
crawled into
her lap and Shirley Kay scowled at being left out until Matthew took her on his lap. Danny, Sharon and Anna filled out the rest of the wooden bench.

Angie felt extremely uncomfortable. She just knew everybody was looking at the back of her head and wondering who she was. Worse than that, they probably already knew she was the crazy woman who had showed up at the Harper farm.

She patted David’s back, longing to protect him from such curiosity, but the little boy grinned happily at her. None of this was bothering him.

Angie was not unfamiliar with church. Her family had usually attended Christmas Eve and Easter services as well as a few in between. She loved the beautiful music, the formal services, but this was, of course, different.

The minister, dressed in stripped overalls, his hair in need of a cut, opened the service by welcoming everyone, especially ‘our visitors.’ Now everybody could
l
ook openly at Angie and David and the nearest stuck out hands to be shaken, while Clemmie stood to introdu
ce them to the congregation as ‘
David’s lady friend and her little brother
’ and gave their names.

The minister, who called himself Brother Jo
e
, greeted them as Sister Angie and Brother David. David laughed aloud to be called by this name and Clemmie quietly shushed him.

The congregation, led by a young woman, sang spirited renditions of gospel songs, “I’ll Fly Away,” and “Shall the Circle Be Unbroken,” both of which were vaguely familiar  to Angie from long ago days of attending church with Grandma and Grandpa. Grandma still attended church every Sunday, but none of her
family
routinely went with her, though she never gave up asking.

Angie expected a sermon to follow the singing, but instead Brother Joe stood up to mention several who
were
ill, injured  or had lost loved ones and asked that they be remembered in prayer.

Then he led in a long prayer that was taken up each in his turn by the two men who had been seated near the front with him. The prayers were long and fervent and David began to yawn. “Can we go?” he said in a too loud whisper and Clemmie frowned at him and shook her head.

He’s only a little boy
, Angie thought defensively,
don’t you have a nursery?
She was fairly sure she knew the answer because she saw several small children and even a couple of infants in the congregation when she managed a quick glance at those seated behind them.

What follow
ed was called a time of testimony. One person after another popped
up to voice concerns or praise or even to quote a verse of scripture. Older people, especially men, made mini-talks that might last ten or fifteen minutes and were full of platitudes while youngsters were like Sharon, who stood quickly and nervously quoted the

For God so loved the world

passage from John 3:16 in the Bible.

Even six-year-old Anna got nervously to her feet to quote “Jesus wept,” then sat down in embarrassment when she couldn’t remember verse and chapter from the Bible.

Finally Matthew was the last to rise and from a slight stirring around her, Angie gathered this was unusual. “I can’t
recall
whether it’s from the Bible or someplace else,” he said, “but I keep remembering something about the dawn coming after darkness.” He looked tenderly down at Angie. “For me, I’m real grateful to have Angie back home and safe.”

Angie blinked tears from her eyes. What had she done to bring more pain to this troubled man? Certainly she had no such intention, but she didn’t see any
way out of this situation that wouldn’t hurt Matthew.

The service concluded with prayers spoken
by
one
member
after another 
from
the gathering, some prayers softly spoken so she could barely hear the words, others long and loud and fe
rvent in a style that made David squirm on her lap
.

When it was over friends and neighbors clustered around the Harpers to be introduced to their guests with a friendliness she found excessive and even suspect. She
supposed
a whole lot of doubt beyond the friendliness. Not only was
she a question
, but to her surprise, she realized Matthew, one of their own, was been watched with intent eyes.

Of course, back
here
people had less understanding of mental and emotional problems. They probably thought his breakup after coming home from the war, a fairly normal development from what Angie understood,
made him
likely to run amuck any minute now.

She remembered the names of only two of the people to whom she’d been introduced, a large woman with a soft voice that Clemmie called Aunt Rosie, and a young woman with doe eyes named
Evelyn Ann
. The first drew her attention because she was so obviously matriarch here, leader of the community, who advised Clemmie on how to treat a mild rash Danny had been experiencing, coal oil and salve—the Adams salve whatever that was. The second caught her notice because she was so obviously moony-eyed about Matthew and Angie found herself feeling as though her territory was being transgressed, then laughed at herself
inwardly
for feeling possessive of Matthew.

She should be glad there was an Evelyn Ann just waiting to catch Matthew when she dropped him and
went
home. When she went home . .  .
s
he and David, she corrected the thought. She would not leave without her little brother.

Outside again, she found the sky full of stars and the night smelling of sweet clover. Spring, her favorite season, was here and had never been more lovely.

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