Painted Vessels

by Gina Renee Freitag

  Eli stood in silence for a moment, shaking his head. “Goodbye, John,” he finally said as he moved toward his door. He paused after stepping inside and turned back. “Thanks for bringing her home,” he said and shut the door.

  ADA

  The early evening sun pushed long shadows across Evelyn’s yard. The elderly woman was showing Sarah how to embroider a chain stitch as they sat on her front porch. Ada breathed in the warm air and watched her daughter concentrate on the needlework. She could have taught Sarah how to embroider, but she knew how much Evelyn enjoyed it.

  “Do you have any grandchildren, Mrs. Russell?” Ada asked.

  The woman glanced up from the lesson. “I have five,” she said with a proud beam. “But I’ve only laid eyes on two of them. My oldest daughter still lived in town when her first was born, and I was able to meet her second child during their last visit. That was several months before you moved here. She had her third after that. The other two belong to my second daughter. I haven’t met either of hers. My two youngest daughters don’t have children yet, and my son isn’t married.” Ada nodded with sympathy as Evelyn sighed. “But I’ve heard so much about all of them,” she added. “They write to me often. You know, my daughters all live very far away. It takes quite a while for their letters to get to me. And I have no desire to get on one of those loud, metal trains. Death traps!”

  Evelyn patted Sarah on the cheek and sent her to sit on the porch steps while she practiced her chain stitch. “I know it’s hard to travel with young children,” the woman said, making excuses for the oversight of her daughters. “I’m sure they’ll come to visit again when my grandchildren are older.”

  “Well,” Ada said, “until then, you can practice on Sarah.” She leaned forward, picked up the glass pitcher, and poured more water for Evelyn and herself. She glanced at the sky. “I need to start preparing supper soon. Mrs. Russell, would you like to join us this evening?”

  “Thank you for the invitation, but I think I will pass,” the woman said. “I enjoy your family’s company far too much, and I might stay longer than I should. I need to write to my son tonight. I want to send a letter off to him tomorrow.”

  “How is he doing?” Ada asked. “You mentioned he was working on a project. Has he finished it yet?”

  “No,” Evelyn said, shaking her head. “But he’s learning a great deal about it. Unfortunately, it’s taking longer than he thought. He has run into a few challenges and has to travel more than he planned. I suspect he won’t be able to visit for a while, but at least he has found a town to live in when he isn’t traveling. Did I tell you he recently moved to Lambury?”

  “Really? When was that?”

  “Oh, let me see.” Evelyn rubbed her chin. “Dear me! It was last June! He’s been there for a year already!”

  “A year,” Ada exclaimed. “We were in Lambury back in December and then again in April. I wish we knew about it then; we would have looked him up for you. That’s too bad!” She took a sip of her water. “Is his project based in Lambury, or does it still require him to travel?”

  “I think he moved there with the hopes that he could one day avoid much of the traveling. I hope he finds more success in that town; I want him to come home soon. I haven’t seen him in nine years. I’m not sure I’ll recognize him!”

  “Well, you can let him know that I, for one, am looking forward to meeting him,” Ada said with a smile. She stood and walked toward the steps. “And I can’t wait to hear about his project.”

  “I’ll tell him, dear,” Evelyn said. “If you’d like, Sarah can stay here while you make supper. I’ll send her home shortly. We can get a lot of stitching done.” Ada nodded and placed a hand on her daughter’s head.

  “That sounds perfect. Thank you, Mrs. Russell.” She gave Sarah a kiss and went home to start their meal.

  JOHN

  The leaf in John’s hand was withered and streaked with yellowish-brown lesions. Mixed with the lesions were small, dark spots. He grabbed an ear of corn and pulled back the husk. The silk was dark and slimy, and the kernels were shriveled and grey.

  His eyes skimmed over his cornfield; this was the worst blight he had ever seen! Why was this happening? When he first spotted the infection late yesterday afternoon, he gathered a handful of his men and ordered them onto the field. They worked for several hours, chopping down the worst of the stalks and placing them in a pile. He sent them home when it was too dark to work, and after another hour, he went home as well.

  He didn’t sleep at all that night. Early the next morning, he left a skeleton crew with his livestock and took the rest of his men back to the field. Several hours later, as he held the scarred leaf, he walked along the road to see how far the disease had spread. Until a few days ago, the crop had been doing well, but this corn blight seemed to show up out of nowhere, and it was moving fast. His insides churned when he reached the fence. Ray’s corn was just starting to show signs of small lesions. The blight had spread to his neighbor’s field, and John wasn’t sure he could control it.

  He watched his men cut down stalk after stalk; it felt like they were hacking away at his gut. As he turned his gaze toward the road, he saw three figures on horseback riding toward him. He recognized them immediately, and a quick pulse of resentment shot through him. Ray Larson, Frank Stevens, and Eli Gardner dismounted their horses and scanned the cornfields.

  “You’ve got corn blight! Are you kidding?” Ray yelled as he tied his horse to the fence. “When did you notice it?”

  “Yesterday,” John said. “We’ve been cutting it back as fast as we can, but this morning it’s gotten worse.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me? I could have had my men out here.” Ray turned to the other two. “Frank, go back and round up as many men as you can. Tell them to grab as much digging equipment as they can carry and get back out here, quick! We need to dig up all the roots.”

  Eli grabbed onto Frank’s arm and said a few words to him. Frank nodded as he pulled himself into his saddle. John couldn’t hear what was said, which made his anger burn hotter.

  Ray adjusted his hat and looked at John. “Where did it start and how fast is it spreading?”

  John pointed toward his land. “It started about a furlong that way. This morning it was about two hundred feet shy of your property, and now it’s across the fence. I don’t know what to tell you, Ray. It’s moving fast.”

  Eli squinted as he scanned the corn rows. John wished his neighbor had sent that gypsy boy away instead of Frank!

  “Is this going to spread to the wheat and barley?” Eli asked.

  John scoffed at his question. “No, of course not! But neither of us can afford to lose our corn, so unless you have something useful to say, I suggest you get out there with the rest of the men and start pulling up the infected stalks.”

  “Ray, we need to get ahead of this,” Eli said, ignoring him. “I think we should focus all our manpower—both yours and John’s—on digging up a ten-foot strip down your field.” He pointed at Ray’s land. “Right there, about fifty feet in front of the disease line. Then burn it from that point toward John’s land. If we work fast, it might not jump the strip and we can save most of your crop.”

  “Burn it! All of it?” John yelled. “So, I don’t get to save any of my corn. Is that what you’re saying, boy?”

  Eli turned to him and shook his head. “Look at your field. You’ve already lost your corn.”

  “I think he’s right, John; blight lives in the kernels. Where did you get your seed this year?” Ray asked.

  John crumpled the leaf in his hand and threw it on the ground. “We’re wasting time!” He brought his finger and thumb up to his mouth and whistled to his men.

  By the time Frank returned with a wagon full of workers, John’s men had already moved onto Ray’s field. Ray explained Eli’s strategy to the newcomers, and they were soon making fast progress. After a while, more men from town showed up. Word had spread faster than the blight, and even the town
sfolk not employed by the farmers came to help. Among them were Marcus and David, who looked out of place in their suit pants and nice shirts. Apparently, they didn’t waste any time changing before heading over. John wasn’t used to seeing them in the context of this kind of work.

  Ray’s wife Irene arrived with a wagon full of women. They had prepared a large amount of food and brought it to the edge of the fields, along with a barrel full of water. As they set up tables in the shade and laid out a hardy meal, Irene ordered the men off the field in shifts. She insisted they drink plenty of water and eat some food. John was impressed with Irene’s practical, take-charge attitude. She thought nothing of working alongside her husband whenever it was needed. She was well-suited for farm life, unlike Agnes. But he knew Agnes wasn’t a farm girl when he married her. He never expected his wife to be like Irene Larson.

  As the women served the food, John took a moment to check on the men’s progress. The hot July sun beat down on the workers, and many of them had rolled up their sleeves or taken off their shirts altogether. His eyes landed on Eli. Like most of the men, he toiled in a short-sleeved undershirt, but his tattoos gave him the appearance that he had collected more dusty grime then the other men—as though his veins were magnetic, and the dirt was full of iron. John watched the painted gypsy as he labored. He had never seen Eli working the land before. He was quick and steady, and he didn’t seem to tire as easily as the others. As Eli pulled at a corn stalk, Irene came up behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

  “You need some water,” she said.

  “I’ll go in a minute,” he promised.

  “Go now, Eli! I know how hard you work; you won’t stop if I don’t make you. You’re going to drop in this field right where you stand if you work in this heat at the same pace you usually do. What good will you be to anyone then?” As Eli moved to the next stalk and sank his shovel into the earth, Irene pointed to the barrel. “Go drink some water so I don’t have to explain to Ada how you worked yourself to death out here. You need to stand in that shade for ten minutes before coming back out here. No less than that, you hear me? I shouldn’t have to remind you to take your breaks.” She grabbed hold of his shovel; it was a firm gesture, but it was followed by a soft sigh. “I’d tell you to take a longer break if I thought you’d listen.”

  “Okay. I’m sorry, Irene.” Eli released his grip on the shovel and wiped at his forehead. “Thank you.”

  As John watched their exchange, Eli’s eyes swept across the field and landed on him. Irene tracked his gaze and pointed her finger at John. “You too,” she said. “Get over there and get some water. I’m not losing any of you men to this heat today.” John nodded and followed her orders without arguing.

  The night glowed as the cornfield burned; dark smoke rose up and blotted out the moon. At least, the summer wasn’t too dry, John thought. But then he remembered that corn blight thrives in warm, damp weather, and he huffed a short, ironic laugh under his breath. If the season had been too dry to risk a fire, the blight wouldn’t have been an issue.

  After a strip of Ray’s land had been cleared, Frank grabbed some torches from the wagon. John realized this was why Eli had pulled him aside earlier—to suggest that Frank bring them. Even before he mentioned the burn, Eli had already predicted what they were going to have to do. Half of the torches were taken to the cleared strip and half were taken to the far end of John’s crop. The torches were lit and used to set a fire along the edges of the two fields. The flames crept toward the center, obliterating the diseased corn as they traveled to meet each other. There was nothing left to do but keep the fire from spreading beyond the boundaries of the corn.

  A sour rage burned in John’s gut as he watched his investment going up in flames. But that rage was tinted with despair. He didn’t see corn burning out in those fields; he saw all of his money, his hard work, and his hopes and plans diminished to ash. He had put everything into that corn. He was so sure it was going to be not only his validation but his vindication as well. He wanted to punch anything he could get his hands on. He wanted to curse. He wanted to sit down in the smoldering ashes and give up, but this night was far from over.

  The women left after all the food had been eaten and the sun began to set. Ray and most of his men had gone home a few hours ago; the rest of his corn was safe. The barrel, still partially full of water, was set under a tree to hydrate the men who stayed overnight to monitor the burn. John placed a few of his workers at key locations along the perimeter of the field. The rest were sent home. It was going to be a long night.

  Isaac was one of the men who stayed; Eli stayed as well. John insisted he go home, but Eli dismissed the order with a shake of his head and continued to work through the night, spreading dirt onto any flames that flared too close to the edge.

  “You know I’m not going to pay you for staying,” John said with no fight behind his words.

  “I’m not expecting you to,” Eli replied. “That’s not why I’m here.”

  “Why are you here, then,” he asked.

  Eli leaned on his shovel and looked at him with surprise. “Because it’s the right thing to do, John,” he said. Eli lifted his tool and continued to work the fire’s edge.

  MARCUS

  Marcus pushed the gate open and stepped into the yard, thinking about the meeting that had just taken place in his office. He had been concerned about John Miller’s faith for several months, but after his crop failed last week, Marcus was afraid the farmer would withdraw from God completely. He didn’t come to church on Sunday, and it wasn’t due to the controlled burn. The fire was completely quenched by Saturday morning. After a two-day burn, the farmer’s field was drenched in a thunderstorm, displaying God’s mercy even within the parameters of His discipline.

  Of course, John’s absence on Sunday may have been the result of his exhaustion. But Isaac Weber had monitored the burn for many of the same hours, and Eli never once left the field until the rain finally stopped in the late afternoon. Both men were able to get themselves to church the next morning, though Marcus observed each nodding off during parts of his sermon.

  John, however, seemed to be avoiding everyone, and Marcus was concerned that he might spiral further into his bitterness. He made room in his schedule to seek John out before the end of the week, hoping to help him navigate through this dark valley. But before he was able to do so, there was a knock on his door. John stood outside the pastor’s office with his head held low and his hat in his hands. Marcus ushered him in and closed the door. After an uncertain moment, John started to talk, and once his words began, he told Marcus everything.

  He was hurting. He was angry and embarrassed. He had lost a lot of money, but mostly he was confused. He wanted Marcus to explain why this was happening and why God was being so unfair. Marcus was sympathetic but blunt. He pointed out John’s pride and traced the consequences of his sin all the way to where the farmer now found himself.

  They sat in the office and talked for several hours. Marcus explained how a person who is consumed with pride can be so focused on himself that his thoughts will move further from God. He showed John how far away from Christ he had grown over the years and how close to danger this brought him. He was able to help John understand why God chose to discipline him—not because He didn’t love John, but because He didn’t want to lose him. John’s trials were not only the penalties of his own self-glorifying actions but a result of the Father’s love and compassion as well. His plan was for John to be wholly restored; God desired their renewed relationship.

  The most encouraging moment during their meeting was when John fully admitted to his sin and accepted that his pride contributed to the trials he was now facing. He wept as he apologized for snooping in the pastor’s office and for being blinded by his anger. And then he admitted how low his thoughts had actually sunk and how deeply in trouble he truly was. John confessed his utter shame, which threatened to drive him deeper within himself. He didn’t know if he could escape its
hold. He wanted to be released from life itself.

  The pastor prayed with John for forty minutes. John humbled himself, joined in, and asked God to forgive him. He recommitted himself to the Lord and accepted the consequences he was facing. He asked God to free him from the bondage of his pride and to give him wisdom on how to protect his family from the destruction and ruin his sin had brought upon their lives. As John was leaving the office, Marcus could see that he was transformed but still shattered. John told him his plan to relocate his family to White Falls, where he could look for work and try to build his life back up to whatever God would allow.

  As the farmer walked away with slumped shoulders, Marcus closed up the church and headed to Eli’s house. He pushed the gate open and nodded at his friend, who was relaxing on the porch with Ada. Sarah played quietly in the yard; Marcus waved at her as he walked up the steps and sat in the chair next to Eli. “I just spent three hours with a very humbled John Miller,” he stated.

  Eli sat in silence. He crossed his arms and shook his head. “That was Miracle corn, wasn’t it?” Marcus sighed at his observation but didn’t’ respond. Eli frowned and said, “John invested in that company after all! I figured he wouldn’t care about my opinion, but he should have listened to David.”

  “He made a bad choice,” Marcus agreed, keeping his eyes locked on Eli.

  “You want me to bail him out, don’t you?” Eli said, leaning forward in his chair. “I can see it on your face, Marcus. I’m not sure that will help him in the long run. I can fix his problems now, but what is he going to learn from it?”

  “I don’t know, but his problems are bigger than you realize. He dug himself in deep. He’s going to lose all of his land. The Miller farm will no longer exist, and he’ll take his family away.” As Marcus explained the situation, Sarah came up the stairs.

  “Papa, what’s wrong with Mr. Miller? Why is his farm going away?” she asked. “Doesn’t his farm help the families in town? What will happen to them if Mr. Miller moves away?” The three adults turned toward the girl’s question.