Endless Mercy

by Tracie Peterson

  Mrs. Simon walked by with her husband. “Blessings on your marriage, Mrs. Roselli.” They’d just arrived back from Seattle and hadn’t been at the wedding.

  “Thank you.” Havyn felt the heat creep up into her cheeks again. Being married to John was the most wonderful thing she’d ever experienced. It still made her a bit giddy when she thought about it, even after a month.

  John leaned closer to her ear. “You look beautiful this evening, Mrs. Roselli. Have I told you that?”

  “Twice. But I could hear it again and again.”

  “Oh, you two.” Whitney took Havyn’s other arm and laughed. “The constant compliments are quite sugary sweet.”

  “Well, I, for one, love it.” Madysen stepped in front of them and walked backward for a few steps. “I think it’s adorable and what every married couple should do.” She turned around and barreled on ahead of them. “Hurry up, I want to get a good seat.”

  Havyn glanced at her older sister. “Guess we better hurry up.”

  As Whitney rolled her eyes, Havyn couldn’t help but laugh. “Aren’t we a mess? Sometimes I feel old and stodgy with all the responsibilities we have, but Maddy always seems to help me feel young again.”

  “Until she forgets what she’s supposed to do and you have to holler after her.” Whit laughed. “But I guess she does balance us out, doesn’t she?”

  Havyn watched their younger sister flit through the crowd, greeting people, smiling, laughing––as if she didn’t have a care in the world. “Yes, she does. Life would be very boring without her.”

  Whitney elbowed her. “Hey, are you saying I’m boring? And what about John?”

  The deep voice of her husband washed over her. “I’m fine with boring. Well, sometimes.”

  They enjoyed a laugh together and took in all the sights. Whatever was planned for the show, it must be quite grand. Especially for their little town on top of the world.

  Maddy waved them forward. Of course, she had found seats up front. She was entirely too excited about this whole thing. What had gotten into her lately?

  They took their seats and settled in for the show.

  The chairs were packed into the grassy field. A huge crowd had arrived for this opening night. Even with quite a chill in the air, Havyn was warm with all the people around.

  “Ladies and Gentlemen . . .” A booming voice sounded from behind the curtain. “Tonight, we hope to entertain and amaze you with Merrick’s Follies and Frolics.”

  Applause sounded all around, along with some whistles and cheers.

  Two entirely too skinny girls burst through the curtain. They were scantily dressed and went immediately into a tumbling and acrobatic routine. Bending and twisting and flipping all over the stage.

  Havyn raised her eyebrows. How could they possibly move that way? And how could they perform wearing so little? Weren’t they embarrassed? Cold?

  She turned to Whit. Her older sister’s jaw was dropped, and there was no missing the stunned expression on her face.

  “Aren’t they wonderful?” Maddy’s loud whisper reached Havyn’s ears.

  That wasn’t quite the word she would use. In fact, she was pretty sure that God never intended the human body to move quite like that.

  “They’re nearly naked.” Whitney’s whisper matched the disapproval on her face.

  Applause and cheers erupted as the girls took a bow.

  And then a short and pudgy man came through the curtain. Pulling three rings from behind his back, he showed them to the audience and then began to juggle. Another ring flew at him from the side of the stage. He deftly added it into the juggling mix. Then another. And another. Pretty soon, a large rubber ball was bounced toward him, and he proceeded to kick it up and bounce it on his knee while standing on the other foot and juggling all the rings.

  The audience loved it.

  At least he was fully dressed. The thought of the man coming out as scantily dressed as the girls made Havyn giggle. The audience of mostly men wouldn’t have been nearly as enthralled.

  The next entertainer walked to the center of the stage with her head down. She wore a stunning dress––the skirt was layers upon layers of some gauzy material. It hovered around her ankles in a great bell shape, while the top was tight and looked like a corset. It didn’t even have sleeves. Underneath the skirt, they could all see a pair of pink satin shoes with ribbons wrapped around the woman’s ankles.

  The crowd hushed and many leaned forward as they waited for the young woman to do something. Then she lifted her arms and the music started.

  Ah . . . she was a dancer.

  She lifted up onto her toes, and the crowd gasped. A ballet dancer! Havyn had never seen one before. Such grace and elegance as the young woman moved about the stage. The music—played on a phonograph somewhere behind her—sounded like a full symphony orchestra. It was so familiar. And then it hit her. “It’s Tchaikovsky,” she whispered to John.

  “You mean the music she’s dancing to?”

  “Yes. It’s from Swan Lake.”

  “Oh. I don’t think I’ve ever heard it before.”

  The music overwhelmed her senses as the dancer floated around the stage. Havyn didn’t even want to blink.

  It ended all too soon. Havyn took a deep breath. Now that was something she could watch for an entire evening. It was so . . . beautiful.

  When the dancer left the stage, the pudgy man returned. Disappointment filled her. She wanted to ask them to bring the graceful dancer back.

  But no. The man was back. This time with a box. For the next twenty minutes, he entertained them with magic tricks. If you could call it entertainment. Apparently a lot of the spectators thought it was.

  She stifled a yawn. While the show was lively enough, she couldn’t imagine sitting through something like this every night. Especially when there were so many chores to do at home.

  The booming voice returned. “It’s time for our intermission, folks. But make sure you are back in your seats in fifteen minutes.”

  The audience stood and moved around. She and John greeted a few friends from church and from the Roadhouse.

  Mr. Cahill—their nearest neighbor—laid a hand on John’s shoulder and smiled at her. “While this has been fun, I must say that nothing can hold a candle to your wife and her sisters.”

  John beamed a smile. “I quite agree, sir.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Cahill. Please tell Emily that I said hello.” Havyn followed her husband and squeezed his arm as they walked among the crowd. “You have to agree with the man, you’re my husband.”

  “No, I don’t. I have to be honest. And you three”—he shot a look over her shoulder to Whit and Maddy—“are the very best. Your music is entertaining and moving. You are always adding new pieces and mesmerizing the crowds. So, yes, nothing can hold a candle to you. And I’m not just saying that because I’m partial. I’m saying it because it’s the truth.” He glanced around as if to make sure no one overheard him. “And you three do it with your clothes intact.”

  Havyn laughed out loud, causing everyone in a nearby radius to go silent and look at them as if they’d interrupted a Scripture reading. John grinned and rolled his eyes heavenward, which didn’t help matters at all.

  He led her back to their seats as the crowd began to quiet.

  Whit leaned over and whispered in her ear. “I’m not sure what that was all about, but I’m ready to go home anytime. The ballet dancer was good, but let’s hope the rest of this keeps me awake. My dogs will want to run at four tomorrow morning whether I’ve had enough sleep or not.”

  “I know.” Havyn kept her words hushed. “Hopefully it will be over soon.”

  They all clapped as a tall and lanky man dressed in a fine suit walked to center stage. He stood for several moments while the crowd got so quiet, Havyn could hear herself breathing. Then as everyone seemed to be on the edge of their seats, he began to sing.

  “She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps,

&nbs
p; And lovers are round her, sighing;

  But coldly she turns from their gaze, and weeps,

  For her heart in his grave is lying.

  She sings the wild song of her dear native plains,

  Every note which he loved awaking;

  Ah, little they think, who delight in her strains,

  How the heart of the minstrel is breaking.

  He had lived for his love, for his country he died,

  They were all that to life had entwined him;

  Nor soon shall the tears of his country be dried,

  Nor long will his love stay behind him.

  O, make her a grave where the sunbeams rest,

  When they promise a glorious morrow;

  They’ll shine o’er her sleep, like a smile from the west,

  From her own loved island of sorrow.”

  As he held out the last note, sniffles were heard throughout the crowd. Havyn couldn’t resist looking around her. Handkerchiefs were in hand throughout the crowd. So the advertisement was true. The tenor definitely made everyone teary.

  As gentle applause swept through the crowd, many people stood on their feet and wiped at their eyes.

  Then the man held out his arms to quiet the crowd. And silence enveloped them once again.

  After a very long and dramatic pause, he started again.

  “Did they dare, did they dare to slay Owen Roe O’Neil?

  Yes, they slew with poison him they feared to meet with steel.

  May God wither up their hearts! May their blood cease to flow!

  May they walk in living death, who poisoned Owen Roe!”

  The music hit Havyn in the chest. She’d always loved playing this piece on the violin but had never heard the words before. While it had a poignant melody, the lyrics were so . . . dark.

  She closed her eyes and envisioned herself playing the violin, but the lyrics kept haunting her.

  “We thought you would not die—we were sure you would not go,

  And leave us in our utmost need to Cromwell’s cruel blow—

  A sheep without a shepherd, when the snow shuts out the sky—

  Oh! Why did you leave us, Owen? Why did you die?

  Soft as woman’s was your voice, O’Neil! Bright was your eye,

  Oh! Why did you leave us, Owen? Why did you die?

  Your troubles are all over, you’re at rest with God on high;

  But we’re slaves, and we’re orphans, Owen! Why did you die?”

  Once again applause erupted throughout the area. Accompanied by plenty of sniffing and clearing of throats.

  One thing she could compliment Mr. Merrick on, he knew how to throw a variety show together. There was a little bit of everything to keep people entertained. But out of all of it, Havyn only wanted to see the ballerina again. The beauty and grace of her dance—along with the music—had stirred her soul. That was real talent.

  While the crowd continued to applaud, a group of young ladies, also scantily dressed in chorus-girl attire, ran across the stage. They sang a fast tempo song with silly lyrics, all the while kicking their skirts up with their legs. This brought out a bit more raucous behavior from the men in the audience than Havyn appreciated.

  John leaned toward her. “I’ll go get the wagon ready.”

  “Good idea. Thank you. I don’t think I can take much more of this.” She tugged on Whit’s sleeve as John left. “I think we should go.”

  “I couldn’t agree more.” Whitney poked Madysen and tugged at their younger sister’s sleeve.

  As they ventured into the aisle between the chairs, the song ended and the crowd cheered again.

  Someone was speaking to the crowd and saying good night, but Havyn didn’t slow. The sooner they could leave, the better.

  NINE

  Madysen climbed up into the wagon next to Whitney.

  “Whew. I’m glad that’s over.” Her older sister leaned back on the bench seat.

  Havyn laid a hand on her husband’s arm on the back of the seat in front of them. She looked over her shoulder at them. “Me too.”

  Madysen furrowed her brow. “I thought it was quite wonderful. Didn’t you enjoy it?”

  Havyn turned in the seat to fully face her. Then she glanced at Whit. “Well, I really enjoyed the ballerina. And the tenor wasn’t bad either.”

  “But the skimpy costumes on those girls at the end were, quite frankly, scandalous.” Whitney never did mince words.

  “It’s not like they walk around dressed like that all the time.” Madysen tried not to sound like a petulant child. “It’s a show. An act. Nothing more. And it looked like they were having fun entertaining the crowd.” It was time her sisters took her seriously. She was an adult and entitled to an opinion.

  “It’s one thing to entertain with music or dance, but to be immodest and bawdy? I don’t think that’s necessary.” Havyn turned toward the front again.

  Madysen couldn’t allow her sisters’ opinions to be the last word. “John, what did you think? Didn’t you think the dancers were entertaining?”

  He kept his gaze forward. “To be honest, Maddy, it made me uncomfortable. That’s why I left to get the wagon. I don’t believe it’s right for a man to be looking on women who aren’t dressed appropriately. It could cause impure thoughts. The Bible tells us that we are to guard our minds, and I aim to do that. It’s different for you because you’re a lady. But you must remember that men are often tempted by what they see.”

  “But what about the ballerina? Her attire wasn’t all that modest either. At least at the top.” Madysen tapped Havyn’s shoulder. “And you said you really enjoyed it.”

  “I did. And you’re right. It wasn’t the most modest outfit, but I can see how constricting sleeves would be for her. Her performance was lovely.”

  “So why was hers lovely and the others’ not?”

  Havyn let out a long sigh. “That’s a good question, Maddy, it is. But I think it’s all about the intent. What the ballerina did was beautiful and graceful. It wasn’t trying to entice anyone to look at her a certain way. . . .”

  “But you’re saying the chorus girls at the end had an ill intent?”

  “Madysen Eleanor Powell.” Whitney’s tone sounded almost like Mama’s. “That’s not at all what Havyn was saying. But you have to admit that the atmosphere was different around the different performers.”

  Madysen crossed her arms over her chest. “But God doesn’t look on the outward appearance, He looks at the heart. And I think it is completely unfair of you to judge the hearts of those women. I wouldn’t mind learning to dance and travel the world performing.”

  The shocked looks on her sisters’ faces wasn’t quite what she was hoping for. But it did shut them up about the entertainers.

  Was she wrong to think that it was okay for those girls to be dressed in risqué costumes so they could perform on stage? The more she thought about it, the more she cringed. She wouldn’t want to wear something like that. She would feel exposed.

  Maybe that was the point that Havyn and Whitney were trying to make.

  So why did she argue so adamantly with them? Because her temper got the better of her? Or simply because she wanted them to start letting her opinion matter?

  Silence reigned in the wagon as they reached their farm.

  John helped each of them down. “I’ll put the wagon and horses away.”

  “I’ll get some tea going, and we can all sit in the parlor together.” Havyn wrapped her shawl a little tighter around her shoulders and went inside the house.

  Whitney stopped beside Madysen. “I’m not sure what’s going on in that cute little mind of yours, Maddy, but I’m sorry we came across so judgmental earlier. That wasn’t our intent. I hope you know that.”

  She wrapped an arm around Whit’s waist and walked side by side with her. The bleating of sheep and the mooing of cows accompanied them as they strolled to the house. “I do. I just hope you are willing to listen to my hopes and dreams.”

  “O
f course we are, silly. We’re your sisters. And we love you more than anything.”

  Havyn greeted them at the door. And not with a smile. “Amka just told me that Dad is here. Talking with Granddad.”

  Whitney let out a huff. “All right. It’s time we handled this head on.”

  “Whit—”

  Their older sister held up her hand. “I’d appreciate it if you all would come with me.”

  Madysen glanced at Havyn and prayed that Whitney wouldn’t say anything she regretted. Not that she was particularly excited about seeing their father either, but Whit could be fierce.

  When they entered Granddad’s room, both men raised their eyebrows. But Granddad held up a hand. “I”—he pointed to his chest—“him come.” His words were few and far between because speaking still took so much effort, but hopefully Whit got the point.

  “You asked him to come?” Whit put her hands on her hips. “Why?”

  The two men looked back and forth between each other. Pages littered the bed. They’d obviously been talking for a good bit of time.

  Dad took a deep breath and spoke up. “Chuck asked me to forgive him.”

  “Forgive him? For what?” The words flew out of Madysen’s mouth before she could think.

  “What on earth do you need to forgive him for?” Whit’s posture stiffened. Shoulders up, chin raised. She wasn’t about to let this be explained away.

  Dad’s face fell. Such weariness in his eyes. He seemed . . . defeated.

  Granddad grunted and flailed his left hand. “Go . . . go . . . on.” He wrote something down and handed it to their father.

  Dad read, “‘I need you all to sit down and please hear me out.’”

  Madysen sat on the edge of Granddad’s bed and took his hand, while Havyn sat in the chair next to him.

  “Do we need to wait for John?” Havyn’s voice lifted on the end. She was nervous.