Painted Vessels

by Gina Renee Freitag

“Thank you,” Eli said suddenly, looking at each of them. “You’ve all done so much for us. I can’t… I don’t know how we can ever repay you.” Ada nodded as she grabbed onto his hand.

  “It’s our pleasure.” Jed said. “Some of us know what it feels like to teeter on the edge of despair.”

  When they retired for the night, Eli and Ada were able to sleep in their new, more permanent dwelling. Maybe it was just a tent, but it was their tent. Eli had helped make it, and after two long months, it finally felt as though they had a home again.

  Jed stayed with the young couple on their second Monday in Clackton. Eli was glad; he wanted to get to know the man better. They sat in his vardo with a deck of cards. He showed them a few simple games to pass the time, but he said his main goal was to design tattoos that would cover the marks on their arms.

  “Start thinking of something you will want to have forever,” he said. “I know you think these tattoos will help you forget what happened, but they won’t do that; you’re always going to remember. But you can choose a tattoo with a stronger message. Pick an image that carries a positive meaning behind it.”

  “What about you?” Eli said. “What do your tattoos mean?”

  Jed glanced at his arms and rubbed the pictures. A distant look passed over his face. “Every one of my tattoos reminds me of either a blessing God has given me or a lesson He has taught me,” he explained. “Even my first, the one I got before I knew Christ.”

  “Which one is that?” Eli asked.

  Jed turned slightly to show the image of a lion on his upper arm. He pointed to it, tapping his finger lightly. “I got this one when I was twenty-six. I thought it would make me look tough. I was the lion, the king of the jungle—ruler of my own life.” He shook his head at the memory. “My brother and I had just moved to the roughest part of the city, and the people we hung around with were not good. They picked people’s pockets and swindled them out of their hard-earned money. They constantly fought amongst themselves, hoping to gain respect. The only way they could get others to follow them was through intimidation.” He tapped the deck of cards on the table. “I never did those things, except maybe the fighting. But I didn’t care what they did; who was I to tell them it was wrong? My brother and I were on a dangerous path.”

  Jed shuffled the cards in his hand. “And then one day, my path crossed with that of a young theology student. I don’t know what he saw in me, but he went out of his way every week to buy me a coffee. He was determined to be my friend. I was only interested in the free drink, but he was persistent. He talked to me about God and the Bible. He didn’t force it on me; he just spoke in a way that got me thinking. Ira—” Jed chuckled. “He’s smart! He knows God’s word, and he makes it interesting. But back then I was stubborn; I didn’t think I needed to change. It wasn’t until I met this beautiful nurse that I started to rethink my life. She was way too good for me and I knew it!”

  “Rosa?” Ada asked with a smile.

  Jed laughed and nodded. “Still too good for me, right? Yeah, I don’t think I’ll ever be as good a man as she deserves, but she loves me anyway. She’s something special. You know, she used to help the poor women in the city. She was their midwife when it was time for them to have their babies, the ones who couldn’t afford to see a doctor.”

  He dealt the cards as he told his story. “Well, I knew I would have to make some real changes if I was ever going to have a chance with her, and Ira was up for the challenge. We started meeting every day. I asked him so many questions. He was patient and answered them all, and then one day I got it. I finally understood that I am not enough. When left to my own efforts, I’m lost. I desperately need Christ, and He truly wants me. I asked Him to be the Ruler of my life, and from that day on, this tattoo meant something new to me.”

  Jed paused for a moment. When the man looked at his hands and sniffed, Eli realized he was trying to compose himself. “I tried to tell my brother about Jesus, but the criminal life was too tempting for him. It didn’t take long for that life to kill him.”

  As Jed continued, Eli picked up his cards and began to arrange them into suits. He thought about his parents and felt the same pain he heard in Jed’s voice. “It was hard on me when my brother died, and Ira knew I needed to get away from the city. He had recently met Tony and his father Hanzi. They wanted him to join their caravan, and Ira asked me to come along. Rosa and I got married and we both went. Rosa had seen so many babies and mothers die; she was ready for a change.”

  He looked at them and sighed; his voice changed as the mood of his story lifted. “That was over a decade ago, and even though I’ll always miss my brother, the caravan is my family now. We’ve lost a few along the way, but we’ve gained a few as well. When we joined the caravan, Floyd and Hattie’s son was still with us, and Goldie lived with her parents in their vardo. Of course, it didn’t take long for everyone to see how perfect Ira and Goldie were for each other. They got married two years later, and now we have Sammy and Myra. Every single one of these people has been a blessing in my life, and each of them has been an inspiration for another tattoo.” Jed leaned back in his seat, looking as though several more memories were running through his mind.

  “Where are Goldie’s parents now?” Eli asked.

  “Goldie’s folks stay at the winter camp year-round,” he explained. “They have a garden and take care of things for us. Thanks to them, we have enough food for winter. You’ll meet them in September when we return.” Jed peered closely at him. He knew Jed was looking for some kind of reaction, but Eli remained quiet and shifted his eyes to his cards.

  Ada broke the silence. “I want my tattoo to represent people and blessings too,” she said. “The flowers that were in my hair during the wedding, I’d like two of those; one for me and one for Eli. And the leaves—I want those to represent the caravan, surrounding the flowers in a protective cluster. Can you do that, Jed?” The man set his cards aside and grabbed a stick of charcoal and some paper. He began sketching ideas while she looked across the table at his design.

  The image of Ada from his dream flashed into Eli’s mind. The flowering vines she had been playing with were the same flowers that had been in her hair, the ones she now asked Jed to put on her arm. A deep longing stirred in his heart; he couldn’t put it into words, but he knew it was connected to his dream. Jed and Ada wanted their tattoos to remind them of what God had already done for them and of people God had placed in their lives. They wanted something commemorative. Eli wanted his tattoo to remind him of something more continual, something ongoing. He wanted it to motivate him. The question from his dream repeated in his mind: “Will you tend my crops?”

  “I know what I want my tattoo to be,” he said, causing them both to glance up. Jed slid the paper and charcoal across the table. Eli set his cards down and started drawing.

  JOHN

  John Miller slapped the reins impatiently as he guided his wagon down the road. Needing to repair a few of his cattle pens, he was heading into town to pick up a load of lumber. John was the largest landowner in East Haven. He owned approximately one thousand acres, and running a farm that size kept him busy.

  Ray Larson owned a good-sized farm as well, which happened to border John’s westward fields, but his was only six hundred acres. Ray used his land to grow a few crops—mostly hay—and he was successful enough. John, however, grew more high-profit crops than his neighbor and owned twenty-six dairy cows as well. Those cows provided most of the town with milk, butter, and cheese. Both he and Ray needed to hire workers in order to keep their farms running smoothly, so it could easily be said that they were important men who helped ensure the town’s prosperity. But John employed far more men than Ray; he was well aware of his greater responsibility to East Haven.

  Picking up lumber was not his only reason for going to town. Isaac Weber had asked him to meet with Eli Gardner and possibly offer him some work. To be honest, John was irritated by Isaac’s request. If this new neighbor of his really wante
d a job, he should have come to John himself. He was not impressed! And it didn’t help that there were some pretty shocking stories flying around town about this new couple. The things his wife Agnes repeated to him were not stacking up favorably for the town’s newcomers.

  She had heard from Edith Taylor that the Gardners were lewd performers who used to travel with a band of gypsies. They corrupted the youth of every town they visited. Edith herself had witnessed the wild dancing and loud, detestable music—all on a Sunday afternoon too! If that wasn’t bad enough, people were saying that both of them—even the wife—were covered in tattoos under all their clothing!

  Evelyn Russell told Agnes that the “snippy girl in the house next door” was rude, disrespectful, and had a nasty temper. And the husband seemed to have his own faults. The Gardners had been in town for almost a month now, and Eli still hadn’t sought out any work. Well, that spoke for itself! John got the impression this gypsy boy was lazy, and in his experience, lazy people tended to drink. He wondered if the wife was so bitter and angry because of her husband’s idle ways or if the husband was so apathetic because his wife was a pestering nag.

  The more he thought about the things he had heard, the more he regretted agreeing to meet with Eli. Isaac probably saw them as a charity case, but John had a farm to run. Handing out charity jobs was not good for business. Let the church take care of the poor. That’s what John’s tithe was for, wasn’t it?

  It wasn’t as though he had no compassion for the needy. There were plenty of poor, large families in town, and he was willing to offer those men some modest wages once they proved to be hard workers. John had no tolerance for men who were only poor because they weren’t willing to work. His dad was a lazy drunk, and John had to work harder than most just to make sure he and his mother and sisters had enough to eat. He resented his father for it, but he was also aware of this simple fact: having to work harder back then contributed to his success now. He could either take after his pa or rise up and be better. John refused to take the first route.

  He pulled his wagon up to the lumber mill, and as a millworker began to load his order, John strolled over to the general store. Isaac was standing outside Johnson’s Mercantile, but there was no sign of Eli.

  “Your boy didn’t show up, huh?” John said with a sneer as he walked up to him.

  “Eli is at the bank talking with Mr. Holden,” Isaac explained. “He’ll be here soon.”

  It was early in the month, and due to Eli’s lack of work, John figured he must be having trouble coming up with his mortgage payment. He was probably trying to work out some sort of deal with the banker. John shook his head as his patience grew thinner.

  Eli and David walked out of the bank, deep in conversation; David was relaying some anecdote as Eli laughed and nodded. The men shook hands before Eli jogged across the road toward the general store.

  “Eli,” Isaac called out, “have you met John Miller?”

  “Briefly, a couple Sundays ago,” he said, holding out his hand. John shook it, turning Eli’s arm to give his tattoo an obvious examination.

  “Looks tough,” he said. “I hear you’re looking for work. What else can you do with your arms besides mark them up?” There was a short pause before Eli answered.

  “My trade is fine woodworking, but if you’ve got something you need help with, I can do just about anything.”

  “Fine woodworking…like carving?” John said, not actually interested. “I don’t have any use for that. But I’ll tell you what, I do need someone to muck out my barn every morning. I was going to give the job to Henry Carlson, but you can do it instead.”

  Mucking out a barn was a dirty, unpleasant job, but it revealed who the most humble and hardest workers were. John wanted to test his theory on what kind of man Eli was.

  “I didn’t know Henry Carlson was looking for extra work,” Isaac piped in.

  “Yeah, he’s got his tenth kid on the way. What do you say, boy? You want the job?”

  Eli was slower to answer than he liked. “Thank you for the offer, Mr. Miller, but I think I had better keep looking.”

  “Not quite what you were hoping for, huh?” he said with a snort.

  “I just don’t think I should take work away from a man with ten kids,” Eli replied. “I only have Ada and myself to take care of.”

  Well, that sounded noble enough, but John guessed there was another reason for Eli’s refusal. He suspected it was either pride or laziness—probably both. “You sure about that? I won’t offer again. Once the other employers in town hear that you’ve refused a perfectly good job offer, they’ll be less willing to hire you.”

  “Go ahead and give the job to Henry,” Eli insisted.

  As Isaac listened to their conversation, he raised his hand and beckoned to Ray Larson, who was walking toward them.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. Miller. I asked Ray Larson to meet with Eli as well. I’m sure he’ll have some work.” Isaac greeted the old farmer. “Mr. Larson, you’ve met Eli, haven’t you? Mr. Miller wasn’t able to hire him, so if you have any work, I’m sure he’d be grateful for it.”

  As Ray shook Eli’s hand, John spoke up in a sardonic tone. “Yeah, if you’ve got any whittling you need done, this is your boy, Ray!” He slapped Eli roughly on his back.

  “Whittling? No, I don’t think so…” Ray began. “I assume you’ve got other skills, though?”

  Eli glanced sideways at John before answering. “Yes, Mr. Larson. I can work the land. I also know a little bit about building, and I’m good at odd jobs if they’re needed.”

  “Oh, we have a lot of those around my place,” Ray said, chuckling. “Come by the barn tomorrow morning, and I’ll get you started on some of those odd jobs. I can’t pay you as much as John pays his workers, but I’m sure we can figure something out.”

  “Whatever you pay will be fine. I just appreciate the chance to work,” Eli said. “And I don’t know what his skills are, but I understand Henry Carlson is looking for some extra income. If you have a lot of work, you may want to call on him also.”

  “I wasn’t aware,” Ray said. “Thanks for the tip, Eli. I’ll definitely do that.”

  John grimaced. He could not believe Eli had just given up half his work to someone else! Well, that was one way to ensure a person didn’t have to do a full day’s work. He was starting to understand why Eli’s wife might be so bitter. Having a husband who dodged his responsibilities would shrink any woman’s heart. Maybe he should feel sorry for her.

  “Well, I need to get going,” John grumbled. “Farm work is never done! Isaac, I hope you’ve had a productive day off; see you in the morning. Eli, looks like you found a job you’re willing to do. Good for you. And Ray…” He shook his head. “Good luck with that.”

  As he walked back to his wagon, he wondered how long it would take his neighbor to get fed up with Eli’s casual work ethic. Knowing Ray, he’d probably never figure it out—the guy was a pushover. But then, Ray only had six hundred acres, whereas John had almost twice that. He was too big and too important to let himself be pushed around.

  ELI

  When it was time to start working on their tattoos, both Jed and Rosa stayed in the camp with the young couple. Rosa put on her apron, grabbed a cooking pot, and stepped outside. Eli watched her through the window as she walked up to one of the caravan’s small barrels that was filled at the public well. After dipping her pot into the water, she brought it back inside and placed it on the woodstove. While the water was heating, she collected supplies from the cupboards and closets. Jed opened a drawer and brought out a pen and a bottle of dark red ink.

  “I’m going to draw the designs right onto your arms with this,” he explained. “Once you’ve decided it looks right, I’ll use black ink to make it permanent.” He grabbed a rolled-up leather pouch that contained a set of wood carving tools. “These belonged to my grandpa,” he said with a proud grin.

  He removed one of the tools from the pouch. It was only a wooden handle; t
he chisel’s blade had broken free a long time ago. He placed the handle on the table and set the pouch aside. Rosa handed Jed a bottle of clear liquid, along with a spool of thread and an ink cake wrapped in waxed paper. She opened a small tin container that was filled with sewing needles and put five of them into the pot of boiling water.

  While Rosa spread clean cheesecloth over the top of a large mixing bowl, Jed used his knife to cut a small piece off of the dry ink cake. He scraped it into a shallow cup and mixed the black ink with a small amount of water.

  After a few minutes, Rosa poured the pot of water into the mixing bowl. The cheesecloth caught the needles as the hot water filtered through it. She brought them to the table, along with the bowl. Jed washed his hands in the water and held the needles together. He inserted them into a groove on the edge of the handle and tied them securely by wrapping them several times with the thread. He poured liquid from the bottle over the tool he had assembled.

  “What’s that?” Eli asked.

  “It’s grain alcohol,” Jed explained. “It’s better for cleaning than for drinking. So, who wants to go first?”

  Eli looked at Ada. “Are you nervous?” he asked. “I want your marks to get covered as soon as possible. If you aren’t too scared, I think you should go first.”

  “I’m a little scared,” she said, but after a pause, she agreed. She sat across from Jed and held out her arm. He studied the marks in silence before beginning. He picked up the pen, dipped it in the red ink, and drew a simple sketch of their earlier design directly onto her arm. Ada smiled and said it looked good. When the ink dried, Jed used his right hand to stretch her skin taut. With his left hand, he dipped the needles into the black ink and began pricking her skin along the red lines. Ada’s eyes widened, and she reached out with her free arm.

  “Eli,” she said through a quick, wavering breath as she grabbed onto his wrist.

  “Does it hurt more than last time?” he asked.