The Promise of Morning (24 page)
He followed them around the rail fence and into the waist-high corn. Hoed soil was still visible between the plants, but the bare spots were shading in. Matthew squatted to check the moisture in the earth, grunting with the discomfort of lowering his body to a crouch. He scooped a handful of dirt and allowed it to trickle through his fingers. “Dry. We need more rain.”
He glanced at his hayfield. “But not right now. You boys will have to start cutting while this clear weather holds.” He focused his attention on Jimmy and Johnny. “You’ve helped me with the haying before. Think you can do it by yourselves this time?”
Johnny straightened his shoulders, pulling himself to his full height. “You can count on me.”
“Me too,” Jimmy added. “Don’t know how much good Harrison’ll be though.”
“Well, you’d better be grateful for his help the next few days. I’m sending him home with Uncle Arthur when he leaves next week.”
“Really?” Harrison’s eyes brightened.
Matthew nodded. “Your uncle’s place needs attention. He can’t do it alone while he’s getting over the ague. Mind now, you’ll probably be doing the same work you do here—weeding the garden, mucking out the barn, splitting wood—and you’ll have to do it without your brother’s help.”
Harrison shot the twins a triumphant look. Uncle Arthur was a treasure trove of stories and games and a great favorite with his niece and nephews. Matthew knew his children had figured out that if they asked questions about the early days, when settlers came down the Ohio on flatboats and had to fight Indians, Arthur could talk for hours about his adventures. Chores were forgotten and often postponed for another day. Time spent with their uncle was a treat indeed.
He felt a pang as he watched his sons’ lively faces. They were changing so fast. He cleared his throat. “Come to the barn. I’ll show you the best way to sharpen a scythe.”
Later, as he climbed the back stairs to the porch, Matthew felt the bottom step rock slightly under his weight. Looking down, he couldn’t see anything wrong with the board. He promised himself he’d check it later. Right now he needed rest. The effort of walking over the uneven ground of the cornfield, then later working in the barn, set up an unmerciful throbbing in his ribs.
When he stepped into the kitchen, Maria hurried over to him, a broom in her hands. She wore a ruffled cap over her blonde hair the way Ellie did when she cleaned house. “Are you done working outside? Will you tell me a story?”
Floorboards creaked overhead. Ellie was probably busy shining furniture, a Friday chore. “Didn’t your mama tell you to sweep the kitchen?”
“Well, yes.”
He smiled at her. “I’m going to rest on the divan for a short while. When you finish, come on in and we’ll have a story time.”
Maria’s face shone. “I’ll hurry.”
On Sunday, Matthew woke before sunrise. Dull pewter light sifted through the parlor windows. As consciousness returned, it brought nervous clenching to his stomach. He felt the palms of his hands moisten as he considered his plans for the day.
Father,
please be with me. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
He pushed himself to a sitting position and listened, thinking he heard a sound in the kitchen. When it repeated, he realized Ellie was up and busy with breakfast
He’d found her surprisingly amenable the previous evening when he told her of his plans. Now that he considered it, she’d been less argumentative ever since they returned from Molly’s on Thursday. Maybe she was starting to see things his way.
Matthew stood, intending to go upstairs and put on his church clothes. When he opened the parlor door, Ellie came down the hall toward him, a concerned frown wrinkling her forehead.
“You don’t have to do it.” She rested her hand lightly on his arm. “What are you hoping to accomplish?”
He ran his fingers through his sleep-spiked hair. “I’m not sure, but I know it’s the right thing. I can’t leave otherwise.”
Ellie slid her hand away. “Then you’d better get ready if you still intend to arrive early.” She stepped aside so he could pass. “Breakfast will be waiting when you come downstairs.”
By the time he arrived at the table, the twins were up and had clattered into the kitchen. “We want to go with you.” Fully dressed, Johnny stood beside his father’s chair.
“We can help,” Jimmy added.
Matthew shook his head. “I’m riding Samson. You wait for Uncle Arthur to bring you in the buggy.” He speared a griddle cake from the platter in the center of the table and dropped it onto his plate. His stomach rebelled at the prospect of food, but he knew he needed to eat.
“You boys haven’t washed or combed your hair,” Ellie said from the other side of the room. “Go finish cleaning up, then wake Harrison and Maria.” When they left, she picked up the platter and carried it back to the stove. “Want some ham?”
“No, this was plenty.” Matthew scraped his chair away from the table, leaving his meal half eaten. “It’s time to go.”
Ellie wiped her hands on her apron. “We’ll be there in another hour.” She opened her mouth to say something else, then apparently changed her mind.
He wished he knew what lay behind the expression in her eyes. Support? Or pity?
Coolness hung in the air as Matthew pushed open the doors of the church. He wanted time to walk through the building and memorize its details while he was alone. His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor when he moved down the center aisle and stepped onto the platform in front. Sunlight from east-facing windows made the well-worn pulpit gleam. He laid his Bible down, opening it to the passage he’d selected for his farewell message. Again the palms of his hands moistened. He’d put out no announcement. No one in the community knew he’d be there that day.
“I heard you were back. Going to try it again, are you?” Marcus Beldon strode up the aisle.
Matthew’s heart drummed in his throat. “It’s still my church.” Leaving the platform, he faced his adversary.
Beldon pulled his jacket open, throwing out his chest and tucking his hands in his pants pockets. He rocked back on his heels, looking at Matthew with one eyebrow raised. The gold watch chain across his waistcoat glistened in the light. “That’s not the story that’s going around. Word is you’re headed south to be an itinerant preacher.”
Matthew retreated a step. Standing next to the immaculately groomed Beldon never failed to make him feel like a bumpkin. “I’m going to be riding circuit, yes. But I think I owe it to the people here to say a proper farewell before leaving.”
“Very commendable. And don’t worry about this church. I’ll see it goes on.” Beldon clapped him on his right shoulder.
Matthew gritted his teeth to hide the pain that shot down his side. “It’s not up to you, is it? You can’t just take over the pulpit of a church without an appointment from the elders.”
Beldon narrowed his eyes. “I have a divinity degree from Harvard College. Once you’re gone, I’ll present myself to whoever’s in charge over in Quincy. They’ll jump at the chance to get a man with my qualifications.”
At the sound of voices, both men looked toward the back of the church. Several townsfolk entered together. When they saw Beldon standing with Matthew they stopped, apparently confused.
Beldon hurried toward them. “Come in, come in! The good reverend and I were just discussing the sermon.”
Matthew pinched his lips to keep from being provoked into a public argument. Instead, he returned to the pulpit and closed his Bible. He’d speak what was in his heart.
Gradually, the church filled with people, more than Matthew had seen there in months. Many of them looked at him and then seemed to search out Beldon for assurance. But others hurried forward, welcoming him. When Arthur led Ellie and the children to their accustomed spot on the front bench, he noted worry lines around his wife’s eyes.
Matthew surveyed the congregation, heart swollen with sadness at the thought of leaving.
He held up his hand to silence the buzz of conversation in the room. “Let’s seek the Lord’s presence.”
Using the side of the pulpit for support, he lowered himself to his knees and offered a fervent prayer asking the Lord to guide not only his words but the ears and hearts of his listeners.
When Matthew stood, he rested his hand on his worn leather-covered Bible, its pebbled surface a comfort. “Today’s service isn’t going to be what you expected. I know most of you are surprised to see me here. Some of you heard I was leaving. Some of you thought I’d already left.” Taking as deep a breath as his ribs would permit, Matthew continued. “Two weeks ago I went to Quincy and resigned as pastor of this church.”
A collective gasp sucked air from the room.
He focused his gaze on the people that he knew had supported him—Ben and Charity, Molly and Karl, a few neighbors and friends from various homes in the community. “But I couldn’t leave without saying good-bye.”
Startled murmurs reached his ears. “It’s true then.”
“He’s going.”
A voice called, “Don’t leave, Reverend. We want you here.”
Matthew tried to see who’d said it, but couldn’t be certain. In the back of the room, Beldon sat with his arms folded across his chest, face unreadable.
Matthew swallowed.
Lord, this is harder than I expected. Help
me find the right words.
“There’s been too much dissension here for me to feel useful to you. Some of it’s been my fault. I made far too large an issue over the performers in
Macbeth
, even though one of them did end up bringing upheaval to my family.” He glanced at Beldon and his covey of supporters. “Other whispers have reached my ears. I won’t give them credence by repeating them now.” In the front row, Ellie sat with her head down, shoulders bowed.
Matthew’s eyes filled with tears and he blinked them away. “I’ll be leaving soon for Adams Station, the first stop on my circuit. God bless you all. I pray you will put your differences aside and work to make this a united church body. Outsiders look at us quarreling among ourselves and see no reason to convert to Christianity. Let that not be so in Beldon Grove.”
Heart pounding, he left the platform and walked to the rear of the church. Hands reached out to touch him as he went past. To Matthew’s surprise, one of the hands belonged to Zilphah Beldon.
She gripped his coat sleeve with her twisted fingers. “You’re making a mistake, Reverend,” she whispered. “Don’t go.”
Ellie stood under the clothesline watching the twins at work in the hayfield. Johnny took the lead, bending at the waist and swinging his scythe, dropping hay onto the ground in a wide swath. Jimmy followed with his own blade, a dozen feet behind and to one side. Slowly they worked their way across the first acre. They weren’t able to cut as big a swath as Matthew did, so it would take them longer to finish. She scanned the few wispy clouds trailing overhead, praying they wouldn’t get caught by a thunderstorm while the hay was down.
She realized she’d been standing motionless, observing, while the wet garment she held in her hand dripped onto her apron. Quickly, she pegged it to the line.
Harrison ran between rows of hanging laundry and planted himself in front of her. “We’re ready to go. I came to say goodbye.”
Ellie’s heart turned over at the sight of her younger son’s freckled face shining up at her. She reached out and pushed his springy dark hair out of his eyes. He looked so much like Matthew. Her hand slid from his forehead to his shoulder and then she clasped him to her in a fierce hug. “I’ll miss you so much. You be a good help to Uncle Arthur, now, you hear?”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and held on for a moment, then backed away. “Uncle says he has lots of work for a strong boy like me.”
“I don’t doubt it, Son.”
“And maybe he’ll teach me to play his fiddle. He says he learned when he was my age.”
Ellie followed the eager boy to the buggy where Uncle Arthur waited. Wooden clothes pegs in her apron clicked together as she walked, sounding like she had a pocket full of crickets. Matthew stood there giving Arthur last-minute instructions.
“Did you get the hamper I packed for your supper?” Ellie asked.
“Right here.” Arthur pointed behind him.
