Loving Liza Jane (11 page)

“Papa, there’s Miss Merriwether,” Lili said, tugging on his arm as they made their way past other worshippers to sit on a bench about halfway back.

“So I see.”

“Can we go sit with her?” she asked midway down the pew.

“No, Lili. We will sit here.”

“Can I go sit with her?”

“We will sit as a family.”

Molly began to fidget as soon as they sat, and Ben told her in a whisper to behave, bringing about a batch of tears. Frustrated, Ben shifted her on his lap and jostled her, but she wouldn’t be comforted. When Molly’s cries intensified and she started kicking, several heads turned, particularly those of the women. Somehow he managed to ignore their blatant stares and kept up with his incessant bouncing.

To Ben’s relief Carl Hardy went to the front and led the gathering in the singing of the first hymn. Ben sang out in his deep bass voice, hoping to drown out the sounds of his anxious child. Lili paid no mind to her sister’s whimpers, more bent on getting a better view of the much more exciting Eliza Merriwether.

At the close of the five-verse song, Molly was still going strong. In fact, she’d geared up for her second round by the sounds of it, her blotchy, puffy face and runny nose a clear indication of her sour mood. “Lili, stay here,” Ben instructed quietly. “I’ll try to calm Molly outside. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Can I go sit with Miss Merriwether?” Lili whispered loudly.

Pausing in the middle of the row, and knowing he was blocking the view of everyone behind him, he nodded in haste. He was in no position to argue with her, and Lili knew it. He would have to speak with her later for having manipulated him unfairly, particularly when he’d already told her no. Of course, he’d also told her they would sit as a family, and now here he was deserting her.

Ben paced outside the building in an attempt to calm Molly. A woman would know what to do, he ruled. Ridiculous. No woman knew his Molly the way he did. She was simply going through a persnickety stage, as he’d heard one woman refer to these cranky times, and no amount of fussing by any woman would change that fact. Still, the notion that two heads were better than one came to mind and stuck there.

“God, what would You have me do?” he muttered heavenward, mopping his wet brow as he marched about. Seeing a shady oak tree to stand under, he made for the spot while talking in low tones to Molly.

Life was anything but easy these days with the farm chores never ending, the housework mounting, those feelings of failure as a single parent spiraling, and now the pressure to finish the cabin. He was only one man. How was he supposed to pull it all together?

“Be still and know that I am God…” The familiar verse of Scripture buried itself in his consciousness, and he thanked his heavenly Father for the gentle reminder. Still, it didn’t solve the problem of Molly’s hysteria and his own sense of helplessness.

“Peace I leave with you…” Another wonderful reminder of God’s faithfulness and ability to care for his needs if he would simply let them all go into His hands. Easier said than done, he ruled, as he sat down and then leaned against the aged oak’s trunk.

At long last, Molly settled into his chest and heaved a couple of long, deep sighs. He suspected she’d slept as restlessly as he had last night. “Feeling better?” he asked in a gentle tone, rubbing her soft cheek with his callused hand. As if in answer she looked up at him and managed a weak smile. “Now you decide to smile,” he said with a chuckle. “What got into you?” he asked, reaching into his back pocket for a handkerchief with which to wipe her eyes and runny nose. Pulling it out, he also pulled out a rumpled piece of paper. After wiping her face, he unwrapped the piece of paper to study its contents.

Marriage Made in Heaven Agency

It was the classified ad he’d run across in the post office a couple of weeks ago. Was it some kind of sign from God that he’d drawn it from his pocket in the churchyard? He studied the ad again, noting each woman’s name with particular care and then her individual specifications. Specifications seemed an odd word to use in describing each woman’s character, rather like searching out a prize horse.

Each one of these women claimed to be God-fearing, even going so far as to describe briefly their testimonies of faith, although the space given them to do so was sorely lacking.

Molly crawled off his lap and began to toddle around the tree, bending to pick up a small stick and then tossing it back in favor of a different one. Ben watched her momentarily and then went back to the advertisement.

The name Sarah Woodward cemented itself in his mind. He’d studied each entry carefully and always his eyes traveled back to hers.

My name is Sarah Woodward. I am a fine, upstanding Christian woman looking for a Christian man with whom to build a home. I am an enthusiastic person who is not afraid of work. I dearly love children. I stand five feet six inches tall, and am what you would call fine-boned, aptly filled out, and well bred. I have red hair that people often refer to as flaming and blue-green eyes, better known as hazel, I suppose.

I enjoy housekeeping duties and am an especially excellent cook. I shall do my best to make some Christian man a fine wife.

**Please contact this agency at the above noted address for further information. Any one of these women will be happy to correspond prior to making traveling arrangements. All impending costs will be the responsibility of the prospective groom.

Ben folded the paper neatly and put it back into his pocket. What was he doing by holding on to this silly advertisement? Did he actually think that sending for a bride was a workable solution? On the one hand, it would solve the issue of caring for his children and managing the household chores. Mrs. Granger was leaving for St. Louis in a matter of days. On the other hand, what if this Sarah Woodward turned out to be completely incompatible?

Flaming red hair…hazel eyes…tall and curved. She sounded like his Miranda, except for the red hair.

Was that it, then? Was he looking for a replacement for his dead wife, someone whose looks, work ethic, and personality matched those of Miranda Broughton? The notion both shamed and enticed him. Of course, it wouldn’t be fair to Miss Sarah Woodward if he spent his days comparing the two of them. Then again, she’d never know if he didn’t let on.

It would be good to have a woman around the house again.

And the more he thought about it, the more appealing it sounded.

The clip-clop of an approaching horse stole his attention. Quickly he sought out Molly and found her intent on something near her feet, clumsily trying to bend over it without toppling.

“Hullo there, Benjamin,” came a booming voice.

Surprised to see Rocky Callahan reining in his horse, Ben pulled himself up from his place under the tree and walked toward his friend, keeping one eye on Molly as he did so.

“Hi, Rocky. Arriving for church, are you?” At close range he noted dark circles beneath the man’s eyes. As rough-hewn and brawny as he was, the pain still showed in his weary expression.

“Naw. Thought I’d ride into town and see if Sam is at the livery. I got to pick up some shoes he’s been working on for one of my horses.”

“I see.” Choosing his words carefully, Ben squinted up at the fellow, the bright sun’s rays blocking all but his broad physique. “How have you been, Rock?”

Ben thought once again that he knew the pain of losing a wife, but he couldn’t imagine life without his daughters. Not a day went by that he didn’t thank the Lord for both of them, as difficult as it sometimes was raising them on his own.

“I’ve been better.”

Distant memories registered of Miranda and him socializing with Rocky and Hester before either of them had started families. They’d been so happy back then, playing games on weekends, talking and singing, laughing and joking, and never dreaming of what lay ahead. It was a paradox of cruel proportions that both he and Rocky had lost wives in their late twenties. Even crueler that Rocky had lost his only child to an incurable fever that took days to run its course. Whenever he thought of it, Ben’s heart ached.

“I don’t pretend to know what it’s like to lose a child, Rocky,” Ben said, taking another wistful look back at Molly, who by now had plopped herself in a pile of dirt. “But I do relate to the pain of losing a wife.”

“Yeah, well, I guess you know that it’s not easy.”

“I do.” Ben looked at the toe of his boot and kicked at a stray leaf. “What have you been doing with yourself? You’ve made yourself pretty scarce. I looked for you at the church picnic last month.”

“I got no cause for celebration.”

“Maybe not,” Ben reasoned, praying for the right words, “but a lot of folks missed you just the same.” Rocky’s horse spooked and sidestepped, giving Ben a better angle with which to study his friend’s long face. “Truth is it’d do you good to come around more. It can’t be healthy for you to stay holed up out there at your place day after day.”

Rocky cursed under his breath. In his own human state even Ben had slipped a time or two with his tongue, but he’d never heard Rocky use a blasphemous word as long as he’d known him. The realization stunned him, but he didn’t let on. Instead he berated himself for not keeping better track of how his friend was feeling.

“You know, Rock, sometimes you just have to lift your head up and look to God. He’s the best source of strength I know.”

Rocky sneered. He gazed out over the horizon as if to measure his words before spewing them. “Don’t preach to me about God’s love, Ben,” he said evenly. “I heard it all before from folks. Hardly a day goes by but what my own Ma don’t come out and hound me to get back to church.”

“She only wants what’s best for you.”

Unlike Ben’s worldly-wise upbringing, Rocky’s had been sound both spiritually and otherwise. Ben hadn’t found God until his late teen years, after he’d met and fallen in love with Miranda. In fact, he had her to thank for introducing him to the Lord. Oh, his grandfather had known God, of that he was certain; but it had taken the love of a pretty young woman to set his mind straight on eternal matters.

“I reckon, but I could do with less preaching. Everyone seems to have all the answers. ‘Why, it was the Lord’s will the way He took Hester and your boy home before their time,’” Rocky said sarcastically, nodding in the direction of the church. “Do folks in there actually think I find those words comforting?”

“I don’t know what they think, Rock. Mostly they don’t know what to say, and so they figure anything is better than nothing.”

Rocky shrugged. “I’d rather they’d leave me alone.”

Ben took an unsteady breath. “I don’t believe you mean that.”

Rocky took off his hat and dashed his fingers through thick, dark strands of hair, then situated the dusty thing back on his head. A soulful rendition of “Amazing Grace” wafted through the open windows of the church. “I best be going.”

“Come on out to the house sometime,” Ben offered. “My cooking isn’t much, but I’d be obliged if you’d join us for supper. I been working on my grandpap’s cabin for the new schoolteacher. I could use an extra hand.”

“New schoolteacher, eh? I heard she arrived.” He looked out over the distant terrain. “My Joseph would have been five years old this fall,” he continued. “S’pect he would have been starting school.”

Knowing it was pointless to comment, Ben simply nodded. “Might do you good to get your mind off your troubles for a change.”

Rocky snapped back to attention. “Yeah, I might swing by sometime.” But even as he spoke the words, Ben knew they weren’t genuine. Tipping his hat at Ben, he gave a mechanical smile. “Good seein’ ya, Ben.”

And off he rode, bigger-than-life shoulders drooping, body swaying, as he turned his horse in the direction of Sam’s Livery.

***

Reverend Miller was a round little man with scant white hair combed over the top of his head to give the appearance of more hair. His searing eyes, filled with wit and wisdom, seemed to reach into a body’s depth, making the already warm room seem all the hotter. He spoke with such passion that beads of perspiration formed on his brow and dripped slowly down his wrinkled face, creating little droplets at the bottom of his chin and eventually falling onto the pulpit below. Liza imagined a little pool of salt water mixing with his sermon notes, blurring the inky words.

A few rows back discontented children squirmed and whined until the sounds of shushing parents quelled their cries. Liza could hardly blame the youngsters for their restless behavior. The room had to be pushing ninety degrees.

The stench of body odor wafted over the slow-moving air current, forcing Liza to go for her handkerchief. She cleared her throat and glanced down at Lili Broughton, who had sidled up next to her, claiming Liza as her friend.

“We should all think of our life on this earth as an assignment,” the reverend said, his now twinkling eyes resting on Liza. She shifted in her seat, waiting for what would come next. She noticed he didn’t mince words.

“There’s more to Christianity than meets the eye, my friends,” he challenged. “Serving Christ means serving others as well.”

“I’m sure the good teacher here would agree that assignments require extra time and commitment. Isn’t that right, miss?”

Liza smiled and nodded, feeling the eyes of the congregants fall to her.

“Well, dear people, the same is true of God. One day you will stand before Him and He will issue you a final exam. The Bible says in Romans 14:10–12, ‘For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of Christ. For it is written, As I live, saith the Lord, every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall confess to God. So then every one of us shall give account of himself to God.’

“Our heavenly Father wants each of us to pass that exam.” Again, Reverend Miller looked at Liza. “It’s always nice to be on the teacher’s good side now, isn’t it?” Laughter filled the room, and Lili sidled in closer.

“Because God, our teacher, wants us to spend eternity with Him, He has already told us what questions we can expect on this exam. How wonderful it would be if every teacher would give us the questions in advance. We would know exactly what to study for.” A couple of snickers followed.