River of Fire

by Darrell Case

  Chapter 14

 

  The last few months Gertie had dreaded coming home to a empty house. Victoria wrote as often as her small savings would allow. The letters were full of news. She was thrilled at the progress of the children; she felt as if she knew each child personally. She shook her head sadly. One thing she knew, Victoria would never beat a child. Her heart was so tender she could not stand to see even a bird suffer.

  Gertie quickened her steps. No matter what the future held, Victoria was home. Usually the house was so cold and lonely; it would be a welcome change tonight.

  She was not ready for the reception she received. A cheery fire danced in the fireplace in the living room. Christmas decorations hung on the walls, doors, and windows. A lovely nativity set stood proudly on the mantle. The most delicious aromas filled the house and voices filled with laughter drifted from the kitchen. Gertie began to wonder if she was in the wrong house.

  Victoria burst into the room, her eyes sparkling and her cheeks flushed. "Aunt

  Gertie, you're home!" she said, hugging the older woman.

  "The old place looks wonderful. Where did you find so many decorations?"

  "We hoped you'd like it."

  "We?" Gertie asked. Before her niece could answer, there was a call from the kitchen.

  "Victoria, where do you keep your serving platters?" a booming voice asked.

  Pulling her aunt along, she entered the kitchen. The small room was crowded. A tall man leaned over the stove, basting a golden turkey. A black man, his face beaming, bowed to her. "Good evening, Mrs. Winters. May I seat you?"

  Unable to respond, Gertie stared at him, her mouth wide open. A fine linen cloth draped the old rickety table, elegant silverware and china shimmered in the light of a gold candelabra. In the center of the table, plates were heaped high with baked potatoes, green beans, corn, and rich brown gravy. Two pies and a cake sat on the counter along with small plates and serving spoons.

  With mixed emotions, Gertie sat down in the chair James held out for her. She managed a murmured "Thank you" to the smiling servant.

  "Aunt Gertie, this is Reverend Adam Wakefield and James Colburn.

  "I would shake hands with you, but as you can see, I'm a little preoccupied," Adam said, taking the turkey out of the oven.

  "How did..." Gertie stopped in mid sentence.

  "It was all Reverend Wakefield's idea," James said, "and a wonderful one if I may say so."

  "We wanted to surprise you," Victoria said beaming.

  "It is a very pleasant surprise. Thank you," Gertie said, her voice choked with gratitude. Suddenly aware of her ragged clothing she blushed. "I knew you'd have supper ready, but Victoria, I never expected this."

  After James served them, he disappeared. In a few minutes, the trio heard the music of a violin. James backed through the door playing the instrument. He played several pieces while they ate, stopping only to serve desert. He ended with "Silent Night."

  James's protests fell on deaf ears. All three insisted that he eat while they clean up. Soon all the dishes and silverware were packed away. And all of Gertie's cabinets were filled with enough food to last for weeks. Afterward, the four of them played games in front of the fireplace until late in the night. James was uncomfortable at first but soon joined in. For the first time since he was a child, he felt a part of a family.

  Adam's first Sunday was a flop, at least as far as he was concerned. Many of the people stayed home or attended services elsewhere; the word had spread about his meager income at his former church in Arkansas. He had envisioned the word of God coming out of his mouth, falling in powerful waves on the congregation. In truth, it was more like a wet blanket. Adam's bright spot in the day never materialized.

  When Gertie woke with a fever, Victoria was torn between going to Adam's church and staying home to care for her. She knew Adam would understand.

  Adam's knock on Gertie's front door that Sunday afternoon brought an immediate response. Victoria welcomed him into their home where Gertie sat in front of the fireplace wrapped in a brightly colored quilt. Feeling better, she tried to apologize to Adam for missing church but he just waved it off.

  Wanting to leave the two young people alone, Gertie suggested she go to her cold bedroom, Victoria and Adam insisted that she stay close to the fire. Adam spoke of his home back in Arkansas.

  "Uncle Bill and I planned to buy a farm someday," Gertie said with a faraway look in her eyes.

  "I didn't know he was interested in farming," Victoria said.

  "Oh my, yes," Gertie replied with a sad smile. "He said 'We'll have eggs from our own chickens, milk from the cows, pork from the pigs, and vegetables from our garden.' He said 'Gertie, we won't have to buy a thing.'" She sighed, "Then one night he went to sleep and never woke up. Our dream died with him. I had to go to work at the sewing factory."

  Victoria put her hand on her aunt's arm, vowing to herself someday to make Gertie's dream come true. Adam remained silent, thinking how fortunate he was to grow up on the farm.

  Victoria searched every day for employment but soon found out just how far Anderson and his banker friend's rumors could spread. Each night, she came in more discouraged.

  After another stormy deacon's meeting on the next Saturday, Adam prepared his sermon. It was the last service before Christmas. He was sure the sanctuary would be packed. 'This church will hold more people than the entire population of Apple Valley, including the hound dogs,' he said to himself. As he was shaving, his hands shook so from the nerves that he cut his lip.

  "Oh, why did I have to do that this morning?" he said. He dabbed at the blood, praying for the flow to stop.

  Too nervous for breakfast, he gulped down a cup of coffee. In the church office, he locked the door and fell on his knees. Rising an hour later, he went over his notes one more time.

  "Lord, if I preach this they'll run me out of town on a rail." He pulled the sermon from the pages of his Bible, intending to tear it up and start over. 'Preach the word; be instant in season, out of season; reprove, rebuke, exhort with all longsuffering and doctrine. For the time will come when they will not endure sound doctrine; but after their own lusts shall they heap to themselves teachers, having itching ears; And they shall turn away theirs ears from the truth, and shall be turned unto fables'.

  The words of Paul humbled him. Here was a man of God slated to die in a short time and he was exhorting the young preacher Timothy to contend for the faith. With new determination in his heart, Adam strolled out the door of his study.

  Elijah Colburn met him in the hallway.

  "Preacher, could I's talk with ya?"

  "Of course. Would you like to meet me here after the service?"

  'I's won't trouble ya like that," Elijah said softly. "Isaiah done told me what ya been a doin' the last week. I ain't never seed airy a preacher like ya."

  Unbidden tears threatened to spill down the elderly man's face.

  "Have I done something wrong?" Adam asked.

  "Naw, naw, ya been a doin' somethin' right. Wantin' to he'p all 'em po' folks."

  All week, Adam had invited everyone he saw to Market Street, regardless of their social standing.

  "I'm a askin' the Lord ta he'p ya today," Elijah said, his face shining. "Ya give 'em the word of the Lord."

  Taking the old work-worn hands in his own, Adam said, his own eyes moist, "Thank you Elijah. The Lord used you to encourage my heart."

 

 
RIVER OF FIRE