Love Finds You in Daisy, Oklahoma (6 page)

Why, oh, why, had she worn this particular dress? The heavy fabric bound her. Still, as one who wanted to present herself as both polished and chaste, she’d chosen what felt right in the moment. Right now she would gladly trade this constrictive dress for one of Sadie’s flowing gowns.

A loud clack-clacking began, slowly at first, then faster, faster, faster.... Rena closed her eyes and held on as the car jerked and swayed back and forth from side to side. Nausea kicked in, so she took a few deep breaths. Hopefully she wouldn’t meet with fiasco this near the beginning of her trip.

When the nausea passed, she eased her eyes open. Through the window, the crowded train station disappeared from view. Leaning back, she decided to rest for a few minutes. Before long, her eyes grew heavy and she drifted off to sleep.

T
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From the day my son adopted two of the most challenging boys at the Atoka County Children’s Home, I knew I had my work cut out for me. William and Jacob are a handful, to say the least. That said, I’m up to the challenge. After all, I did a fine job in raising their father. Of course, my hair went completely gray when he reached his teen years, but that’s another story. And speaking of gray hairs, I’ve figured out why the good Lord gives children to the young. He knows that we older folks would rather give in than take the time to discipline. When my grandsons act up, I simply refer them to their father. After loading them up on homemade cookies and candy, of course.

—Carolina Wyatt, Daisy’s Favorite Grandma

Rena rested a few minutes and then began the journey to the dining car. As she made her way through the other cars, she observed her fellow passengers. All around her, people laughed and talked—whole families enjoying each other’s company. Children wrestled and played together while mothers appeased them with sack lunches. Fathers read newspapers while little boys vied for their attention. And all this happened to the ever-present clack-clacking as the train rolled ever northward toward Oklahoma.

For a moment, a pang of homesickness gripped her. But just as quickly, it faded. Gulfport wasn’t her home anymore. No, she must focus on her destination, not the roads leading her to this point.

She shivered in spite of her wrap, noticing that the air had cooled a bit. Of course, the farther north the train went, the colder it would be. October in Oklahoma would be a sure sight cooler than in Gulfport.

“One for dinner, miss?” a waiter in a black suit asked.

“Yes, thank you.”

He disappeared for a moment and then returned. “I’m afraid we don’t have a table for one. Would you mind joining a party of ladies who happen to have an extra space? They’ve assured me you will be welcomed, and one of them told me to promise you that they don’t bite.”

For a moment Rena thought about rejecting his offer. Then her empty stomach growled. “I suppose that would be fine.”

She followed behind him to a table of rambunctious and somewhat rotund older women, who explained that they were on their way home to Tulsa after a wondrous adventure along the Gulf Coast. The ladies introduced themselves as Amy, Jamie, and Mamie—sisters, and very much alike in every respect, particularly when it came to their colorful attire and lavish hats.

Rena found herself caught up in their chatter, particularly when they began to share the stories behind the peculiar hats they were wearing. Only when Mamie asked about her destination did she feel comfortable chiming in.

“I’m headed to Daisy, Oklahoma, to work with children.” She shared the story of finding the sheriff’s letter, her enthusiasm growing as she went along. Mamie appeared to listen in rapt awe. The peacock feathers atop her large round hat moved back and forth as she fanned herself.

“Oh, you sweet girl.” Amy, the sister with the black feathered straw hat, rested her hand on Rena’s. “What you’re doing is so admirable. Giving of yourself like that to those poor babies—what a sacrifice. I’m honored to know such a giving person.”

“I don’t really consider it a sacrifice,” Rena said, a little startled by the woman’s words of praise. “I’m sure it will be pure delight, in fact.”

“Well, perhaps.” Jamie, the sister with the bright red hat, looked flabbergasted at this proclamation. “But orphans? And most of them boys? You couldn’t pay me enough!” She chuckled. “What a life that would be.” Jamie speculated about the possibilities, and before long all the women were laughing.

Rena found herself affected by their what-if stories. “It will be quite different from what I’m used to,” she said after a moment’s reflection. “But I feel sure it will be an adventure.”

“That it will,” Mamie said. “I’ve no doubt about it.”

Yes, indeed, it would be an adventure. But from the looks of things, the adventure had already begun. Settling in, Rena decided to enjoy every moment.

Gene glanced down at his sons, who had both fallen asleep on his mother’s sofa. “Thanks again for helping with the boys today.”

His mother reached for her cup of tea. “You know I love those boys to pieces, don’t you? They’re a handful, but I love ’em. Wouldn’t trade ’em for anything in the world.” She took a sip of the tea then put the delicate rose-painted cup back on its saucer.

He paused to think through what she’d said before responding. Thank goodness the boys were sleeping, so he could speak openly. Still, he lowered his voice to a whisper, just in case. “I know it was Brenda’s idea to adopt them, and I went along with her.” He sank into the chair across from his mother’s. “If we’d had any idea how things were going to turn out…” He stopped himself before saying anything else.

How could they have known that an innocent trip to visit her ailing mother in Atoka would end in tragedy and that he would be left alone to care for the boys she’d loved so dearly?

Gene reached for his coffee cup, took a swig, then put it back down. “I’ll tell you one thing that’s hard to swallow.”

“What’s that?” his mother asked.

“If Brenda were still here, she could have fixed everything—the situation with the children at the orphanage, the behavior of William and Jacob, the problems with the mayor…all of it.”

“Gene.” His mother’s eyes narrowed. “Brenda was a wonderful woman. Probably the best woman I’ve ever known. But even she didn’t have that kind of power. She was human, like the rest of us.”

“I’m just saying she had a way about her. She knew how to get people to go along with her. I think it’s because she loved so deeply. She could get folks to do the impossible.”

“You’re right about that. She did have a way about her. She could charm a snake out of his venom. But, ultimately, you have to admit that even she couldn’t fix things. Not really.” His mother folded her hands in her lap. “Only the Lord can do that. And we have to trust Him. It might not be in our time or our way, but He hasn’t forgotten these children. There are dozens of Scriptures on orphans to prove that. He’s a father to the fatherless, remember?”

“I remember.” How many times had he heard that since his father’s death? A hundred, likely. Still, it hadn’t taken root. Not really.

He thought about his mother’s words on the drive to his house. After getting the boys into their beds, Gene retreated to the front porch, where he listened to the sound of the crickets in their nighttime chorus. Out here, underneath the heavy, dark skies, he finally found himself free to think, really think.

Off in the distance, he caught a glimpse of the moon covered by a thin layer of hazy clouds. Somehow, staring at the night sky reminded him of a particular night just two and a half years ago, when he and Brenda had sat under a full moon and talked about the possibility of adopting William and Jacob, two little rascally boys she’d fallen in love with. Boys who’d won her heart with both their antics and their need for parental love. How excited she had been…and how happy he had been to go along with her plan. Together, they would raise the boys to be fine young men everyone would be proud of.

Only, Brenda hadn’t lived to see them grow up, and that fact nearly drove him mad at times. What sort of God would take a mother from her children? And not just any children, but orphans who’d finally found a home? It was unthinkable. And how could an all-knowing God possibly think that Gene was capable of raising these boys on his own? Did the Lord not see his shortcomings, his inability to discipline properly?

The wind whistled through the trees, sending a chill down his spine. He still couldn’t feel the touch of a breeze without thinking of the tornado that had taken his wife. One strong wind had changed everything—for her, for him, and for their boys.

He rose and walked across the front yard, his gaze still focused on the stars overhead. After a few deep breaths, he finally managed to spout out a few words to the sky, arguing things out with the Almighty. On and on the words flowed. He walked and talked until he’d emptied himself of the day’s anxieties. Then, as always, he begged God to forgive him for being so wishy-washy. Surely a better man could handle a couple of boys without losing his faith.

He reached into his pocket and came out with the letter from Gulfport. Miss Rena Jewel was on her way to town to take Mrs. Wabash’s place. Once she arrived, all his troubles would be behind him. His faith would be restored and the children at the orphanage would be well cared for.

Until then…well, until then he would go on shouting to the sky.

T
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I’ve never been one for children. A-course, my ma tells me I used to be one. But putting up with those rascals from the orphanage—especially the boys—has worn my patience to a thread. I overlooked the time they busted out the window at the front of my barbershop, and I turned the other cheek when they lathered up my barber pole. But I refused to turn a blind eye when they used my best razor to carve their initials into my front door. My tip for dealing with unruly young’uns? Stay as far away as you can. Keep ’em at arm’s length. And for Pete’s sake, lock your doors. That way they can’t do too much damage.

—Joe Braswell, Daisy’s Finest (and Only) Barber

Gene spent the last Wednesday afternoon in October reclining in the barber’s chair at Joe’s barbershop—the most popular spot in town for the menfolk. He listened to the men seated to his right and left ramble on about the weather and finally managed to get a word in edgewise. His question was meant for the barber. “Joe, can you go a little faster?”

“What’s yer hurry?” Joe swiped the edge of the razor on his white jacket then returned to shaving Gene, the razor swishing this way and that across the sheriff’s stubbly chin. “House on fire or sumpthin?”

Old Man Tucker laughed, his thinning wisps of hair bobbing up and down on his head. “With those boys of his, I wouldn’t doubt it.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his overalls and snorted.

“Nah.” Joe stopped shaving and wiped the blade once again. “A fire would be small potatoes for his boys. They’re into bigger mischief these days, haven’t you heard?”