Hearts Aglow (9 page)

“Truer words were never spoken,” Mother replied. She entwined her arm with Dr. Clayton’s. “Come. I’ll show you where everything is.”

Deborah followed behind as Christopher and her mother made their way to the luncheon table. Seeing that many of the men were out of coffee, she diverted to where Lizzie was already filling several pitchers.

“Let me take those,” Deborah said, reaching for the full containers. “How are you feeling? Did you eat something?”

Earlier, Lizzie had suffered some nausea, but now she looked quite well. “I feel much better. It’s G.W. I’m worried about. He seems so out of sorts.”

“But why?” Deborah looked for her brother and didn’t find him.

“He can’t get up on the ladders and help. He feels that he’s not able to do his part. I told him it was nonsense, but . . . well, I’m wondering if you could speak to your uncle and maybe let him know what the problem is. He might have some idea for what G.W. could do to be useful.”

Deborah nodded. “I’ll mention it when I take the coffee. Don’t you worry, Lizzie. My brother can be quite cantankerous at times, but he usually comes around.” She smiled. “If not, I’ll give him a good elbow to the ribs.”

Lizzie laughed. “That’s not exactly what I had in mind.”

Pouring coffee as she went, Deborah greeted the workers and made comments about their progress. The men seemed pleased to hear her praise. A few of the single men tried to get her to stay and chat, but she made it clear that she had to be moving on so that everyone could have coffee while it was still hot.

She finally found Uncle Arjan and was happy to see he was just finishing. “I wonder if you could help me for a moment.”

He looked at her oddly, but nodded. “What’s the problem?”

She handed him the empty pitchers. “Follow me.”

They went to where coffee was being poured into a large caldron to keep warm while more coffee was readied to perk in the pots. It had been like this all day, with Lizzie and a couple of other women focused on keeping coffee available to all the workers.

“Lizzie is worried about G.W. She says he’s feeling rather useless. I was hoping you might have a special task for him.” She took the pitcher from her uncle and handed it over to Lizzie, who nodded in agreement.

“His leg has been bothering him too much to get in there and really work,” Lizzie admitted. “He doesn’t like to favor it, but he can hardly do much else.”

“I have the perfect solution,” Uncle Arjan declared. “He can be in charge of positioning the interior walls. He knows exactly what we want. I’ll tell him that since we’ve made such great progress, he can get the men to work inside while Rob and I get the upper floor finished and the roofing done.”

Deborah smiled at Lizzie. “See – it’s all resolved.”

“I’ll go find him and arrange things right now,” her uncle said. “Thanks for a mighty fine dinner. A nap would suit me just fine, but I guess I’ll get back to work.”

The work continued until darkness made it impossible to see; the last of the shingles were put into place by lantern light. Those on the roof cheered loudly as Rob put in the final nail. He’d never been so tired in his life, but strangely, the action seemed to give him a second wind.

Climbing down from the roof, Rob immediately spied Mara Shattuck and made his way to where she stood. “Well, what do you think?” he asked her.

She smiled. “Looks like you won’t have to worry when the rains come.”

“If they come. Most of the state is sufferin’ a horrible drought.” He wiped sweat from his face with the back of his sleeve. The chilly evening air felt good. “So, do you plan to be around long?”

She looked at him and considered the question a moment. “I believe God brought me here, Mr. Vandermark. It seemed time to come and help my father with his ministry work.”

“So is that a yes?” He gave her a broad grin.

She returned his smile. “I believe it is – at least for the time. I try very hard to go where God leads. What of you, Mr. Vandermark?”

“What do you mean?”

A coy look crossed her face. “Do you go where God leads?”

Rob felt a bit perplexed. He hadn’t intended for the conversation to veer toward religion. “I reckon I try to. I don’t suppose I’ve ever heard Him come right out and tell me exactly.”

“Do you ask Him to speak to you?”

Her question took him off guard. “Am I supposed to?”

She gave a nod, her expression quite serious. “I believe we are. The Bible does admonish us to seek Him – to ask and it shall be given. It is of the utmost importance that we ask for His guidance. After all, surely we wouldn’t want to go where He does not lead us.”

“No, I reckon you’re right on that.” He grinned. “You know, for a pretty gal, you do a lot of deep thinkin’.”

“Well, Mr. Vandermark, I am much more than my outward appearance.” She turned to go, but stopped and gave him a smile.

“Perhaps in time, you’ll learn that for yourself.”

Rob wanted to rush after her – to suggest he get started on his learning right away – but something held him in place. He was known in the community as something of a ladies’ man. The family often joked that he had first spoken of marriage at the tender age of four when he spied a young neighbor girl at church and declared her just the kind of gal he’d like to get hitched with.

Since that time, there had been a great many young women who’d held his attention and his heart. Often when a new gal came to town, Rob would find himself convinced she was the one for him – at least until another young lady appeared to take his attention.

Now, however, he found himself feeling rather gut-punched. Mara Shattuck was unlike most of the other women he’d met. She seemed so sure of herself, and of course, she was easy on the eyes. But there was also something more. Something he couldn’t quite explain. She had a way about her that left him feeling as though there was something more he needed to know – something that only she could tell him. Something that would complete him.

“She looks like Deborah,” G.W. said as he joined Rob.

Rob looked at him and shook his head. “Who does?”

“Miss Shattuck. Don’t you think she favors our sister?”

He shook his head, unable to imagine what G.W. was talking about. Sure, the beauty had dark hair and eyes, but she looked nothing like Deborah. “I think you need spectacles, brother of mine. Those two don’t look a thing alike.”

C
HAPTER 7

M
ARCH 1886

“Frankly, I can hardly believe the celebration is tomorrow,” Rachel Perkins told Euphanel. “Seems like this year has already gone by so quickly.”

“I have to agree. It started with so many sorrows,” Euphanel replied.

“Indeed it did. Speaking of which, how is Sissy?” Putting down the curtain she’d been hemming, Rachel reached for her cup of tea.

“She’s much better. She likes to sit for a little while now. Her head will start paining her, however, so she doesn’t spend too much time up. Doc says it will be a while before she’s herself again. She might always suffer headaches.”

“That must be so hard for her. I’ve never known Sissy to sit for long.”

Euphanel nodded and tied off her stitch. “She’s never even been one for standing still. I know it’s hard for her to just rest, but I remind her that it’s the only way to heal.”

Rachel smiled. “And what does she say?”

Laughing, Euphanel put the finished curtain panel aside and picked up the next one. “She tells me that the Lord can heal her with a single touch, just like He did folks in the Bible. I agreed, but told her that until He decided to do that, she had to rest.”

“I do wish Zed could find out who was responsible. I know he had our boys go to Lufkin to ask around there about the White Hand of God, but he told me that no one seems to know anything – or if they do, they aren’t talking.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Folks seem steeped in their secrets when it comes to such underhanded events. I do wish we could do something to bring the people together, though. I hate that we sit separately at any gathering – that we have our separate churches. I want to sit with Sissy in church, but she’s hardly welcome in ours.”

“I heard Pastor Shattuck say that if skin color were the basis for acceptance, then Jesus probably wouldn’t be welcome, either.”

Euphanel put her hand to her mouth and suppressed a giggle.

“I’m sure,” she said, lowering her hand, “that didn’t go over well.”

“No,” Rachel agreed, smiling, “but I thought it made a whole lot of sense.”

Euphanel began working on the next hem and shook her head.

“Funny how folks always think of Jesus as blond-haired and blueeyed. I suppose it comforts them to see Him in their own way.”

“I would imagine so, but then, Sissy probably thinks of Him with skin as dark as hers.”

Looking up, Euphanel grew thoughtful. “Do you suppose folks all over the world think of God that way? Each in their own color and manner?”

“Seems reasonable,” Rachel replied. “He is all things to all people.”

“I’ll have to ask Sissy sometime what color she sees our Savior.”

Euphanel took careful stitches as she hemmed the heavy brocade fabric. Lizzie and she had found the dark gold and brown material at the commissary buried far beneath other more popular pieces. The price had been reduced because of a lack of interest, and Euphanel had taken the entire bolt. It seemed a nice heavy material to put up on the new bedroom windows.

“I just had a thought.”

“About what?” Euphanel asked.

“You were talking about something to bring the people together. Pastor Shattuck suggested the black and white baseball game tomorrow, but what about the sacred-harp singing?”

Euphanel had once loved this community activity. Over the years, folks had gotten away from shape-note singing, or sacred harp, as others called it. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. We could see if there was any interest at the celebration tomorrow – maybe in the evening, after the judging is announced. There are surely enough folks around here who’ve participated before that would want to do so now.”

“We used to have quite a good group of singers,” Rachel added. “Remember the old days when we would have gatherings on a Saturday after the mill shut down? We would sing all afternoon and into the night.”

“Yes! I remember it well.” Euphanel closed her eyes and could almost see the squared up formation. Altos facing the tenors, basses facing the trebles. “I enjoyed that so much.”

“Then I think we should begin again. I don’t know if the folks would feel comfortable asking the Negroes to join us, but it would be worth trying,” Rachel said thoughtfully.

“Imagine using music to bring us all together.”

Deborah closed the Bible and looked at Sissy. “Are you ready to lie back down?”

“I reckon so, Miss Deborah. I’m feelin’ a bit poorly.”

Getting to her feet, Deborah put the Bible aside and went to help Sissy from the rocking chair. “Dr. Clayton said it would probably be some months before you felt completely whole again.”

She helped Sissy to the bed and gently eased the woman onto the mattress. Deborah removed Sissy’s slippers and carefully helped her lift her legs.

Sissy moaned softly. It wasn’t like her to complain, and Deborah knew that the fact she’d made any noise at all signaled she was in pain.