by Linda Ellen
His sisters had told one embarrassing Toby story after another, much to his chagrin, but his bride had merely giggled along with the others, although she seemed to be taking care not to add to his misery by additional teasing.
Just now, Shirley was once again taking up the narrative.
“Toby, do you remember that time when Papa gave us some coins and let us take the wagon to town to pick out a birthday present for Mama? Poppy was about twelve, you were maybe ten, I was eight, and Bridget about five…” she told the table at large. “Everything was fine on the way there. But on the way back, Poppy was driving, Blue Boy got spooked and took off, Poppy lost her grip on the reins—”
Bridget interrupted, “Land sakes! I don’t remember that!”
“And she couldn’t get the reins back. We girls started screaming for you to do something—”
“And I yelled, ‘Like what?’” Toby laughed, remembering the harrowing episode all too well.
“Oh, my goodness!” Pauline exclaimed, wiping her mouth on her napkin as she swung her head to stare into his smiling eyes, though hers were large with a combination of amazement, concern…and maybe a bit of fascination.
“Poppy and I kept yelling, ‘Get the reins! Get the reins!’, so you—”
“Sat there quaking and scared out of my mind,” he interrupted, shaking his head.
“Well, nevertheless,” Shirley went on, turning to Pauline on her right and reaching out a hand to touch his bride’s arm. “You know what Tobias did? He yelled for us to climb into the back and hang on tight, which we did. You never saw three girls climb over a wagon seat so fast in all your life. And then guess what he did.”
Pauline, wide-eyed and completely enthralled, shook her head. “I haven’t a clue!”
The others around the table, including Shirley’s husband, Jake, and Bridget’s beau, Clark, exchanged amused smirks; Toby figured that at some point during their courtships each one had heard the story.
Shirley grinned like the proverbial cat that had gotten into the cream and answered, “He stood up, set his feet, waited for the right moment, and flung himself right onto Blue Boy’s back, just like a rodeo rider! He shinnied forward enough to yank back on Blue’s halter, and brought that horse right back under control again. Yes, ma’am, he sure did.”
His sister then turned and met his eyes, and the sincerity in hers took him unawares. “I was never so proud of my big brother in all my born days. I probably never told you, but… You were my hero from that day on. All of us could have been killed,” she added softly, a hint of tears moistening her eyes.
Everyone at the table sat still as he and Shirley exchanged smiles born of many years sharing scads of growing-up-together memories. Toby swallowed, striving hard not to do something decidedly un-manly, like tearing up.
To save face, he was actually glad when the emotional moment was broken by eleven-year-old Tad letting out a whoop. “Great Caesar’s Ghost, Toby! How’d you do that? Will you show me how?”
“No!” Toby and Nettie both exclaimed, followed by rousing laughter from all around the table.
Toby raised an eyebrow at his little brother’s mischievous expression and shook a finger at him. “Don’t you get no ideas, Theodore. What I did that day, I had to do to save my sisters. It wasn’t fun and games. I was scared out of my wits and I could have killed my fool self and them, too, in the process.”
Nonetheless, he could see hero worship in the eyes of everyone at the table. He didn’t feel deserving of it, knowing that he had been frightened nearly to the point of being frozen stiff, and the memories of that day had brought recurring bad dreams for years after—dreams in which he had not brought the horses to a stop, or he had jumped and missed, or worse.
However, the admiration he now saw in his new wife’s eyes put a different slant on an old tale, and he found himself answering her smile of esteem with one of shy gratitude.
“Well, I for one am glad that I didn’t know about that little adventure until years later,” Nettie confessed. “As I recall, you four came home and your father fixed supper that night, since it was my birthday, and everything seemed fine. None of you even hinted at what you’d experienced. Did you tell your father about it?”
Toby laughed and exchanged glances with Shirley. “Nope. I thought he wouldn’t let us go into town alone anymore if he knew. So…I never did tell him,” he added with a bit of sadness, because the reason he never had the chance to tell his wonderful father was the man’s untimely death.
Jonathan Keller had died in a wagon accident a few months later…and Toby had wondered a thousand times if he might have been able to save his beloved father, the way he’d saved his sisters, if he’d only been allowed to go with him that fateful day. Toby had usually accompanied his father on trips to town, but that day he’d been confined to home as punishment for teasing his sisters to distraction. The weight of that realization had been heavy on the adolescent for a good many years, until his grandfather had spoken words of wisdom to his young heart and helped him forgive himself.
Everyone was silent for a few moments until Nettie got up from the table with a flourish to begin clearing dishes. “Bridget, dear, help me clear the table while I bring in the cake,” she asked as a burst of activity commenced.
Nettie brought in the not only beautiful, but delicious, confection, and made a production of saying it was in celebration of his and Pauline’s proxy marriage, to which he looked quickly at Pauline’s countenance, but she seemed unfazed. She merely smiled and nodded as the others around the table applauded and echoed their congratulations.
Then, during the ensuing conversation over their jubilee at being together once again, except, of course, for their darling Poppy, Pauline asked, “I hear you speaking of your sister, Poppy…how did she get such a nickname?”
Shirley, ever the family archivist, proceeded to recite the story of the young newlyweds on a very long trip and how they found a time and place to be alone and enjoy one another…in a field of poppies. Everyone laughed, Pauline and Bridget blushed, Jake made a slightly risqué comment, for which Shirley gave him a playful smack, and Sherry Ann and Tad both looked at one another and shrugged in confusion.
“Well then, I suppose I should admit that my nickname has always been…Pebbles,” Pauline offered. At Bridget’s inquiry, she elaborated, “Although I don’t remember it, it seems that one day, on an outing, when my older brother had been four and me only two, I apparently became fascinated with some pebbles I found along the edge of the river. I wouldn’t put them down or give them up for any amount of persuasion. That day, DJ began calling me, Pebbles, and it just stuck. He still calls me that.” Everyone around the table chuckled with her as she rolled her eyes and grumbled, “Big brothers.”
Snickering, Toby wished he could meet this brother he’d already heard so much about. Pauline laughed again and then looked toward Nettie. “I do concede, however, that my story isn’t nearly as interesting as Poppy’s. It’s a wonderful tale of the lengths to which a couple in love will go to be together.”
Toby watched as his mother gave Pauline a tender smile and inclined her head in acknowledgment, before Bridget mumbled, “Yeah, it was always like that before she married him.”
Everyone at the table seemed to hold their breath and Toby wanted to shake his younger sister for spoiling the mood.
Their mother glanced around and tried to repair the atmosphere with a comment regarding the fire getting low and the supply of firewood needing to be replenished.
Toby pushed to his feet. “I’ll bring some in, Ma.”
He made his way out the back door and out to the woodpile, which he immediately saw needed restocking. Without hesitation, he unbuttoned and rolled up his sleeves, picked up the ax leaning against the chopping block, and, one at a time, began hacking away at the stack of weathered logs.
Deep in thought about the beautiful woman sitting at the table and running through different scenarios on how to get her to stay with him,
he hadn’t realized Nettie had followed him and was now leaning against a nearby tree, simply watching.
Readying another log for a solid whack, he was just about to swing when his mother’s voice came from over his right shoulder.
“I like her.”
He let out a yell and nearly flung the ax.
Turning, he scowled playfully at her. “Ma, you nearly made me chop my leg off!”
She laughed in her gentle way and murmured, “Sorry.”
With a sheepish grin, he went back to work as his mother came around where he could see her, continuing to idly observe his labors. He chopped steadily, stacking up a good-sized pile.
“I’ve missed you, son. And not just for your firewood-cutting abilities,” she added with a delicate laugh. He glanced over at her with a grin as he continued with the task at hand.
“I hated sending you away, you know,” she admitted.
He knew that, and sent her a short nod.
Another whack.
“But, I knew Papa, my big, strong, brave marshal-daddy, would be a good man for you to emulate…and I didn’t want you to become anymore beaten down by that man that I married than you already were. I hated what Al was doing to you.”
He knew that, too.
Another chop, that one a bit more vigorous.
“I wished a thousand times that I’d never married Al,” she confessed with a light sigh. “Sometimes, I wondered how I would ever get through it. And if it wasn’t for the grace of God and small joys—not the least of which were you children—I wouldn’t have. I’d have given up if I hadn’t had you six to keep living for.”
He blew out a breath, beginning to tire and feeling beads of sweat emerge on his forehead and down the center of his back—and not just from the exertion. It was difficult for him to listen to the anguish in his mother’s voice, knowing he had done virtually nothing to alleviate her suffering over the years. The guilt over that stabbed at him again and he physically winced.
Another chop, the sound echoing off the back wall of the house.
“Toby…son…if my sending you away hurt you…can you try to understand now and… forgive me?”
This, he hadn’t expected.
His mother felt guilt over the action that had saved his sanity, his self-esteem, and made him into the man he had become?
He swung around to look at her and there they stood for a few heartbeats. She had tears in her eyes! Slowly, one drop spilled over from each of the beautiful, blue windows to her soul.
“Ma!” he exclaimed. Dropping the ax, he moved forward three steps and folded his mother into his arms. Hugging her close, he whispered against her hair, “There’s nothing to forgive, Ma. I’m glad you did it. Never have I thought of it as you sending me away. I’ve always believed you helped me escape.” He felt his mother shudder and sniffle. “Oh Ma, don’t cry. I’ve never been mad at you. Please believe me.”
She swallowed and leaned back so she could see his face. “Then…why did you never write to me? I thought you’ve been angry with me all these years.”
He looked into those serious eyes for several seconds before letting out a self-deprecating chuckle. “I’m just lousy at it, Ma. I…I thought you knew that. Remember? Pa always said he hated writing letters. I guess I take after him. Besides, Poppy always read your letters to her out loud to me, so I kept up on everything that was going on. I would always tell her to say hello for me to everyone back home.”
At that, his mother relaxed, emitting a whisper of a laugh as she pulled a handkerchief out of the pocket of her apron and dabbed at her eyes and nose.
Then, she reached up and lovingly cupped his jaw covered in short-cropped beard. “Yes, you do take after your wonderful father. In more ways than just that. It…” she paused and he knew what she was going to say, but he didn’t stop her. “It was why Al seemed to hate you so much. He’d always been envious of Jon’s memory and he was jealous of you.”
Toby felt the old frustration and anger begin to rise up within him once more, but he stomped it back down. At one time, he’d been consumed with it, but over the years he had learned to ask God’s help to let it go and had received peace in exchange for the bitterness. He knew, though, that it could creep back in like flood waters under a door, but he wasn’t about to let that happen. Closing his eyes, he offered a quick, silent prayer for God to take it away again.
As he felt the treasured peace once again begin to permeate his being, he peered down into his mother’s dear, adoring, maternal eyes. “Al Shoup was a wretched excuse for a man, Ma. He was miserable and seemed to want to make everyone around him that way, too. Over the years I came to understand that. Now…I just feel sorry for him that he never realized what a blessing he had, having you as his wife. But you,” he added with a loving smile as he gently gripped her arms, “have nothing to ask forgiveness for. You’re a wonderful mother and you always have been. And I love ya,” he added as he leaned down to kiss her on the forehead.
With a look of sheer relief, his mother went into his arms again and they stood thus for quite a while, slightly swaying together, reconnecting, and reestablishing their mother-son relationship.
Once Nettie had followed Tobias out the door, Pauline looked around at the others, feeling decidedly guilty.
“Oh dear…I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to…” she stuttered, unsure of what exactly she had said to cause the subtle but obvious disquiet.
“No, it was me. I put my foot in it again,” Bridget mumbled. “I ought to learn to keep my big mouth shut.”
Shirley held up a hand and opened her mouth to say something, but it was thirteen-year-old Sherry Ann who responded.
“It wasn’t your fault, Pauline—or yours, Bridget. It’s just the memory of me and Tad’s father that always makes everyone upset.”
Pauline turned and studied the girl who seemed to possess an inordinate amount of the wisdom of life for someone so young. As the others rose from the table to attend to various things, each one stopping by Sherry Ann’s chair to give her a pat or a kiss on the cheek, Pauline got up and moved to the now vacant chair next to Tobias’s youngest sister.
Smiling gently, she said, “Sherry Ann, we haven’t had the opportunity to get acquainted yet. You remind me very much of someone…did you know that I have not one, but three younger sisters?”
The girl turned in her chair to face her. “You do?”
Pauline returned Sherry Ann’s curious gaze with another smile. “Yes, I sure do. Olivia is seventeen, and then there are the twins, Faith and Grace—they are twelve—soon to be thirteen, as a matter of fact.”
The girl’s hazel eyes lit up like the candles on a Christmas tree. “I’m thirteen!” she exclaimed.
“I know—Tobias told me. He also told me that you love to read. Well, me too. Reading is one of my favorite things in the world to do,” she confided in the girl as if relating a secret.
Just as she hoped, Sherry Ann responded with pent-up exhilaration. “Oh, me too! Did you know that Toby brought me a copy of The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood? It’s the most exciting thing I’ve ever read!” she declared.
Now, Pauline’s interest really spiked. “No, he didn’t! But that is truly a good book. I was reading it to my tutoring pupil back home, but we had only gotten through the first few chapters when I had to leave…when you are finished reading yours, may I borrow it?”
To her joy, Tobias’ younger sister immediately offered, “Oh, surely I will. Or…” she paused, suddenly shy again as she lowered her eyes, nearly hidden behind wire rim glasses. Pauline waited patiently, taking in the girl’s thin build and straight, dark hair, until she looked up once more and murmured, “Or…we could read it together sometime…if you’d like…”
Pauline reached out and squeezed one of Sherry Ann’s waif-like hands. “I would enjoy that very much, Sherry Ann.”
The two sat for a few moments exchanging heart-felt smiles, until young Tad came bounding over and plopped down in the chair on the
other side of Pauline.
“Did you say you were a teacher back home in Lou…Lou-a-vull?”
Pauline turned her head to smile at the adorable boy. Precocious is how Tobias described him, and I’d say that fits, she mused as she watched him fidget in the chair.
“Well, I was a tutor, but that is something like a teacher. We were working on his reading, penmanship, mathematics, and other things. His name is Frederick, and he’s seven.”
“Well…didn’t he go to school?” the boy wanted to know. “Is he simple or something, and needs extra help?”
Pauline couldn’t help but smile at the young man’s curiosity. “No, on the contrary, he is quite bright. It’s just that he had suffered through a terrible case of scarlet fever and I’m afraid it left his body weak and…unable to do some of the things boys his age love to do—”
“You mean like running races, climbing trees, riding penny farthings, riding horses, chasing bullfrogs—”
Pauline let out a happy laugh at the delightful boy. “Yes, exactly those things.”
Tad shook his head in sympathy. “Poor fellow. I’d be awful sad if I couldn’t do all of that stuff. Why, those are some of my favorite things!”
She gasped and her eyes widened as she realized what he’d included.
“Tad, are you saying you have ridden a penny farthing?” She asked, referencing those contraptions with a large front wheel and a tiny one in the rear. She’d seen messengers use them back home in Louisville and always breathed a quick prayer of safety for the skilled, but in her opinion, foolish, riders as they went lickety-split down the street on their missions. It would be incredibly easy to have a mishap.
He flashed her a grin and his eleven-year-old chest puffed out with male pride. “I sure have. I was down at the depot one day when Mr. Charlie unpacked one that came in a shipment on the morning train. Mr. Hodge at the mercantile had ordered it. He’s still got it over at the store, somewhere, cause I’ve heard him say it was the stupidest purchase he’d ever made and nobody around here has the nerve to try and ride it, much less buy it, but what he don’t know is—I did.”
