Hearts Aglow (7 page)
G.W. rubbed his injured leg. The wound he’d received last December bothered him from time to time; a fall from near the top of a tall pine had nearly cost him his life. He still walked with a limp and at times complained of a dull aching, but he was healing nicely. She knew he tended to rub the spot, however, when he began to feel embarrassed.
Euphanel got to her feet. “I’m going to go check on Sissy now. You boys can figure it all out with the help of Deborah and Lizzie.” She slipped from the room.
I’m blessed
, she told herself.
So very blessed.
The deaths of Sissy’s husband and son had only served to bring back memories of her own loss. But how different life might have been had her husband been less generous in his attitude toward women and training of his sons. Her boys valued her opinion – Deborah did, as well. Where the fate of a widow was often tenuous, Euphanel’s family had always made her feel useful and cared for.
She made her way upstairs and found Sissy awake, staring silently at the ceiling. She didn’t bother to speak when Euphanel sat down beside her. Her pain and sorrow ran so deep that Euphanel couldn’t help but take on a portion of it for herself.
“Some days, it feels as though this is nothing more than a bad dream,” she whispered to Sissy. “But even in this, God has not left you nor forsaken you.”
The woman nodded her head ever so slightly. “I never hoped to live this long – long ’nuf to bury my son – my man.”
Euphanel nodded. “I know. I never thought to bury Rutger, either.”
“I’s sure sorry to be such a burden. Wish I were in the ground with ’em.”
“Please don’t say such things.” Euphanel clutched Sissy’s hand tight. “I can’t bear the thought. I know this is painful, but our family loves you dearly. We want you to consider this your home now. We plan to make it larger so that everyone can live here comfortably for as long as they like.”
Sissy finally turned to look at Euphanel. “Don’t be doin’ such things on my account. Ain’t fittin’.”
“What’s not fitting is leaving you to fend for yourself when we have plenty and can aid you in your time of need. I don’t want to make you feel that you have no choice, but I do want you to know how much we want you to be with us now.”
Tears began to flow from Sissy’s eyes. They slid back to her ears and wooly hair before Euphanel reached up to blot them with her handkerchief. “I ain’t deservin’ of such mercies,” Sissy said, closing her eyes. “I’s been layin’ here, questionin’ the Almighty. I don’t deserve nuthin’.”
“Oh, my dearest friend, you are deserving of this and more. The wrong done to you and your family should never have happened. It’s only natural that you would have questions for God. I’ve been asking Him plenty myself – not because I don’t trust Him, but rather because I just don’t understand.”
“Don’t reckon we ever will.”
Euphanel wiped again at Sissy’s tears. “What’s important now is that we figure out ways to keep it from happening again.”
Sissy’s head moved from side to side. “Ain’t never gonna stop. Never so long as hateful folk live.”
Euphanel knew Sissy was right, but she couldn’t bring herself to admit such things. If she had anything to do with it – anything to say about such things – there would be a change. She would fight to keep anyone else from experiencing what her friend had been forced to endure.
The congregation took their seats after singing the last of their Sunday hymns and waited as Pastor Shattuck took the pulpit. He looked rather grim this morning. There was no casual greeting or comment about the weather; instead, he set his Bible in place and lifted his hands in prayer.
“Oh, Father, we ask for your wisdom. Teach us to be merciful and forgiving, and help us to understand your precious Scriptures. Amen.”
“Amen,” the congregation murmured in unison.
Deborah wasn’t sure what to expect from the minister, but she felt confident he would address the concerns of the community. When he opened the Bible and began to speak instead of Joseph and his brothers, she felt rather disappointed.
“The thirty-seventh chapter of Genesis introduces us to Joseph,” began the sermon. “I will read to you now. ‘Now Israel loved Joseph more than all his children, because he was the son of his old age: and he made him a coat of many colours. And when his brethren saw that their father loved him more than all his brethren, they hated him, and could not speak peaceably unto him.’ ”
He continued, but Deborah gave it less than her full attention. She had so hoped that Pastor Shattuck would make the people listen to reason – help them see that something had to be done about the recent murders.
“ ‘Come, and let us sell him to the Ishmeelites, and let not our hand be upon him; for he is our brother and our flesh. And his brethren were content. Then there passed by Midianites merchantmen; and they drew and lifted up Joseph out of the pit, and sold Joseph to the Ishmeelites for twenty pieces of silver: and they brought Joseph into Egypt.’ ”
The pastor looked up. “For twenty pieces of silver – only ten pieces shy of the price they gave Judas for our Lord. Jealousy led good men to make bad choices in this situation. Envy, jealousy, greed – all powerful influences when it comes to decision making.”
There were a smattering of “amens” from amongst the listeners, but Deborah sensed the tension that ran through the entire gathering.
Pastor Shattuck stepped away from the Bible. “Evil wears many faces. Anger and bitterness – presumed wrongs, as well as those things I’ve mentioned – they all work together to send good men down bad roads.
“Not long ago, Mr. Perkins shared the story of his family’s life in Texas. Having lived in the area for longer than I, it was fascinating to learn the experiences of others. Through his stories I came to understand him a little better. Stories are like that. We share information and learn the sorrows and woes of those around us, and it gives us insight into their hearts.”
Deborah smoothed the skirt of her pale blue gown with her gloved hands and considered the pastor’s words. She had heard the stories of Mr. Perkins’s family but had no idea how it could possibly relate to Joseph and his brothers.
“I don’t know if all of you are familiar, but Mr. Perkins has a past of great sorrows. It seems that members of his family – his grandparents and some of their children – were set upon by hostile Indians. The older folks were wounded or killed, while the children were stolen away. It was later learned that the Indians sold the children to wealthy Mexicans, but by the time those buyers were located – the children had been traded off and lost to the family.”
Several people shook their heads. Some murmured derogatory remarks about the kidnappers.
“It is an awful thing to imagine, isn’t it? Stealing a child and selling him. Just like Joseph’s brothers. They sold their brother into slavery, just as Mr. Perkins’s family members were sold. His own father only escaped the same treatment because he happened to have been in town with an older brother during the raid. Imagine his horror to return home and discover the truth.”
There were additional comments and agreements. The atmosphere seemed to change from one of reverence and a routine Sunday sermon to an interactive discussion on the injustices put upon the white man by the Indians and Mexicans.
“Mr. Perkins tells me that the neighbors and townsfolk did what they could to find the children, but they were never recovered. It was years later that one of the boys managed to get away and return to the family. He told the story of what had happened, but he had no idea where his sisters and brother had ended up. He only knew that they had been sold along with him and sent to various places. Can you imagine such injustice? Such a horrible thing. Children snatched from the bosom of their family and taken against their will to work in a place where they couldn’t even speak the language.”
“Should have killed ever’ last Injun and Mexican,” a gravelly voice declared from somewhere behind Deborah.
She considered the comment for a moment, knowing that most everyone there felt the same way. Pastor Shattuck seemed to nod in agreement. His action surprised her.
“Would seem a just punishment. Kill those who killed and stole away the family members of innocent bystanders. Who among us would say such a thing was unjust?”
“The Good Book says, ‘An eye for an eye,’ ” another man called out.
“It also says that stealing a man and selling him is punishable by death. Exodus 21:16 speaks to just such a thing, so it would only be fitting that those who stole the children and sold them should be put to death.”
There ran a wave of agreements from the congregation that increased in volume until the pastor finally held up his hands to continue.
“Joseph’s brothers, by all rights, should have been put to death, but Joseph was full of mercy. He loved his family and he didn’t want to cause them harm. He showed them mercy, even when they didn’t deserve it.”
Deborah felt a chill run through her body. Could it be possible that Pastor Shattuck would take his message even further? She leaned forward in anticipation.
“So I offer to you a question this day: Do you suppose the Negro came willingly to this continent? Or were they stolen by their enemies for whatever evil reason and sold to be slaves to those who needed workers – just as the Indians did with Mr. Perkins’s family?”
The church went completely silent. There wasn’t so much as a squirm from anyone in the pews. Deborah all but held her breath. The looks on the faces of the congregation conveyed stunned disbelief. They had been led where they did not want to go.
“We are so very quick to suggest that the Indian be killed for having stolen and sold slaves, but when it comes to people of our own skin color doing likewise, we are less inclined to see the wrongdoing.”
He stepped down from the raised platform and gazed across the congregation. “We’ve witnessed many tragedies because of folks stealing other folks and selling them off. We’ve endured a war in this great nation because of such things. We’ve borne the agony of such injustice being done to people of our own skin color, and we stand up and cry out in anger at such wrongdoings. We raise a pleading hand to God to beg justice for our own, while pointing a finger of condemnation on the other hand at those whose skin is darker.”
The congregation remained silent and fixed on Pastor Shattuck’s every word. The man seemed to realize he had finally hit upon a chord they could all recognize. He tucked his hands in his pockets and stepped back to the pulpit and picked up his Bible. “I’ll now close in prayer.”
Deborah closed her eyes and felt a sense of elation. She had a new respect for Pastor Shattuck. He was much wiser than she’d given him credit for. He had found a way to get the people to listen to his heart and to the Word, even knowing they would never agree with what he had to share. He had addressed not the murders themselves, but the very origin of the problem.
Folks filed from the church in silence. Hardly a word was spoken as they departed. Pastor Shattuck extended his hand as he always did, and some folks took it while others passed by without even glancing up. A few, she was happy to see, thanked the preacher for his words. Her family was among those, as was Dr. Clayton.
But would the pastor’s words only serve to put up walls of silence between those who agreed and those who disagreed?
Word quickly spread that the Vandermarks were adding on to their house, and on the last Saturday in February, nearly half the town turned out to help. A palpable tension was evident, however. The ladies seemed to choose their words with great care as they shared the latest news, while the men spoke even less than usual. Deborah overheard several ladies ask her mother about Sissy. They approached her cautiously, whispering their questions. It was unfortunate that a community should be divided by something as heinous as the murders that had taken place; Deborah would have thought everyone could agree at least on the fact that the killings had been unjust. But apparently even that was too much to expect. There appeared to be an unspoken agreement to pretend that all was well, in order to accomplish what needed to be done.
Watching from the porch, Deborah marveled at how her mother moved among the crowd, making each person feel welcome. Mother was the consummate Southern hostess. She easily engaged their friends and neighbors, sharing a comment or asking a question. The tensions began to visibly ease, and finally people conversed, if not comfortably, then at least amiably. When Mother had finally made the rounds, she stepped to the porch.
