Winds of Change

by Gilbert, Morris

  “Daddy would never do that,” Wendy said quietly.

  “No, I don’t suppose he would.”

  He made an effort, saying, “I’ve never been to a church exactly like that. On the other hand, I haven’t been to many churches—but I’m glad I came.”

  Wendy felt relief, for she had been apprehensive about Alex’s response. Now she gave him a warm smile and said, “Come along; we’ll go to the hotel and beat the rush.”

  The restaurant at the Delight Hotel was dedicated to Stuarts that day. Every year Amos and his brothers paid the difference to Merle Baxter, the owner of the hotel, so that they could have it all to themselves. When the crowd had arrived from church and entered, they found that Mrs. Baxter had, as usual, decorated the restaurant by putting tables together in three long rows and had covered them with white tablecloths. She had even arranged for poinsettias to be brought in and had placed them up and down the tables.

  “Let’s all find a place,” Owen said. “Then we’ll have the blessing—and then we eat.”

  Alex found himself standing at a place with Wendy on his left and a woman seated in a wheelchair on his right. “This is my aunt Lenora Stuart. Aunt Lenora, this is Alex Grenville.” Lenora Stuart was fifty years old and had a clear complexion, ash-blonde hair, and hazel eyes. She wore the uniform of a Salvation Army officer, and when Grenville took her hand he found it firm and hard. “I’m glad to know you, Alex.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Stuart—or is it General Stuart?”

  “Well, I’m not much on titles, but it’s Miss, I guess, or just Lenora would be better.” With clear eyes, she inspected the young man and apparently liked what she saw. “I guess you got a double dose of Stuarts this morning. I hope you don’t feel overwhelmed.”

  “I’ve been made to feel very welcome. I have no family of my own—so this is quite a treat for me.”

  “Well, we’ve got enough family to go around, so don’t worry about that,” Lenora said wryly.

  At that moment Owen said, “Nobody elected me anything, but let’s ask a blessing and get on with the eating.”

  “Better let me ask it, Owen!” Amos Stuart was to Owen’s right. The oldest of the Stuart boys, he was now sixty-one and somewhat overweight. He had light hair that was receding, dark blue eyes, an oval face, and very determined features. Of all the Stuarts he was perhaps the most famous, having won a Pulitzer Prize for reporting. He had a radio program that dealt with political issues and was the friend of presidents and congressmen. Now he grinned at Owen and said, “You preachers tend to be a little bit windy. I could always say a shorter blessing than you could.”

  “Go ahead, Amos,” Owen grinned.

  Amos bowed his head, and a silence fell on the room. “Lord,” he said in a quiet voice that carried throughout the room, “we thank thee for this food, and we thank thee for this time that we have together. What a blessing it is to have love in a world that doesn’t know much about that! Thank you in Jesus’ name.” He glanced up, nodded shortly, “Now, that’s the way food should be blessed.” He turned and called out, “Bring it on, Mrs. Baxter!”

  Agnes Baxter came out at once bearing a large platter. She was followed by four young women and one young man who immediately began loading the table down. The air filled with talking and laughter, and Alex was introduced to foods that he had never tasted before. There was fried chicken, which seemed to be called for by law in the South, and pork chops. He was introduced to pork neck bones and buttermilk potatoes. Afterwards he had his choice of persimmon pudding or shoofly pie.

  It was a happy time, for the Stuarts did not see each other as often as they would have liked. They called back and forth, bringing each other up to date on their families; Alex found himself intrigued by Jerry Stuart, who sat right across from him with his wife, Bonnie. Their three small children, the twins Richard and Robert, age six, and Stephanie, age four, were arranged on either side of their parents and behaved very well. Jerry Stuart was a handsome man with black hair, green eyes, and a very direct look. He wore the uniform of a captain in the United States Army Air Corps and kept those who could hear him entertained by tales of his experimental flights.

  Owen stood up and said, “You got your dinner down, and now it’s time for the speech.” He ignored the false moans that went up over the room and said, “We’re all making speeches tonight. We’re going to hear it from every one of the Stuart brood, but we’re going to begin with the youngest and wind up with the old man, Amos, here. Christie, let’s hear what you’ve been doing.”

  Christie Stuart Castellano, the youngest of the children of William and Marian Stuart, was an attractive woman of forty-four with blonde hair and dark blue eyes. She wore a well-tailored, pale apricot dress and stood rather shyly. Her husband, Mario Castellano, was beside her, a stocky man with dark hair and eyes, and their two children, Maria, thirteen, and Anthony, eleven, flanked them. “I’m not going to make a speech. Since my husband’s a lawyer, I’ll let him do all of that, but I want to say only that since God has given me a husband and two beautiful children, I thank him for it. I miss all of you and wish we lived in one town where we could see each other like this every day.”

  She flushed as Owen groaned, “We’d eat each other up in a week!”

  “No, we wouldn’t!” she said. She looked down fondly at her sister Lenora, then her eyes ran around the other members of the family and she said, “I’m glad to be a Stuart.”

  There was a round of applause, and then Owen said, “All right, Gavin, it’s your turn.”

  Gavin Stuart, the youngest male in the family, was forty-eight. He had very dark hair and dark eyes and was married to Heather Spencer, an Englishwoman with fine bones in her face and mild blue eyes. His two children, Phillip and Sidney, were as different as night and day. Phillip, at seventeen, had blonde hair and blue eyes like his mother, but Sidney, fifteen, had dark hair and almost violet eyes and resembled her father greatly. Gavin was president of an airline now and had served in the Lafayette Escadrille in the Great War. He still had the look of eagles, and he spoke briefly, thanking the Lord for his family, wife, son, and daughter, and then sat down.

  “All right, Lenora,” Owen smiled down the table. “Let’s hear it from you, but no sermons. I know you well enough to know you’ve got one in you.”

  Lenora Stuart had been injured as a young woman in a fall from a horse. At fifty, she still had some of the fresh beauty, but the severe cut of the uniform spoke of her life. She had gone to Chicago to serve in the Salvation Army and had risen in its ranks. As she spoke from her wheelchair her voice was clear, and she ended by saying, “I will never have children of my own, but it looks as though I’m going to be aunt to a host of them—for which I am very grateful.” She looked up, around, and said, “And I, too, am grateful to be a Stuart.”

  Owen smiled at her, then said, “All right, Pete, your turn.”

  Pete Stuart had grown up the hard way. He looked like a man who worked every day, which he did. He owned a small oil company in Oklahoma, and his face was burned with the heat of thousands of days, and his hands were gnarled with hard work. He wore a casual jacket, and the necktie looked strange around his neck. He glanced down at his wife, Leslie, and said, “I can’t think of a thing to say.” He looked over at Stephen, his nineteen-year-old son and said, “Steve, maybe you ought to make this speech.”

  “Not me, Dad, this is your hour.”

  “Mona, what about you?”

  “I’m a cheerleader. You go on, Dad,” Mona said cheerfully.

  “Well, you may have to lead a cheer,” Pete said. He looked down at his hands, feeling very awkward. “I hate speech making, especially when I make ’em.” He hesitated, then said, “You know, when we were grubbing around on the farm as kids, not knowing where the next bite was coming from, I never thought that we’d all survive.” He looked over at Owen and at Amos, at the others, then said, “God has been good to us. I remember a line of Scripture; it says: ‘The lines are fallen unto me in p
leasant places; yea, I have a goodly heritage.’”

  He sat down to hearty applause, and then Logan Stuart arose. He said briefly, “I’m the host, and I’m the only one that stayed on the farm. So, I claim that I don’t have to make any speeches. I’ll just listen, but I’m glad to see you all here. It’s good to have Stuarts back in this place.”

  After Logan, Owen said, “My turn, but I had my say at church this morning. I’m glad to be a Stuart. I’m proud of every one of you.” He looked across and said, “Lylah, you’re the actress; now, let’s have some dramatics.”

  Lylah flushed and rose to her feet. She was wearing a smartly cut suit, and her hair was carefully fixed, as it always was. She said, “I remember when I left this place to go to Bible school. I wish I’d had sense enough to stay there, but it didn’t turn out that way. I guess I can think of a thousand things I wish I’d done differently.” Then she laid her hand on Jesse’s shoulder and said, “But the one thing I did right was to marry Jesse Hart. I wish,” she said, “Adam could be here, and I hope he’ll be with us tomorrow. But I thank God for bringing us all together in this place.”

  “All right, Amos, you’re the old man—the eldest son,” Owen said. “What have you got to say?”

  Amos stood to his feet, looked at his wife, Rose, then over toward Jerry, his son, and at his daughter, Maury, who was flanked by Ted Kingman, her husband, and their children Edward, age six, and Lisa, who was three, and said, “I agree that God has done great things for the Stuarts. . . .” Amos spoke for some time, rather eloquently, of how God had kept them all, preserved them all. Finally, however, he said, “I suppose I look at the news more closely than most of you, since that’s my business. I am concerned about the cloud that’s over Europe. It’s a dark cloud, and it’s moving across the ocean. It will not be contained in Europe. Soon America will be under it. I pray to God that we will all be kept through the trials that are coming.”

  Amos looked around and then smiled. “We’ll all be leaving here, some of us later on in the afternoon, but I’ll be here, the Lord willing, next Christmas for the meeting of the clan.” He paused briefly, then said, “I think it might be well if we prayed once again for God to watch over us all. I feel apprehensive about this decade, the forties. I think it’s going to bring something that the world, perhaps, has never seen before. Without being a prophet of gloom, I join with many others who see this as a time when America will pass through a fiery crucible, and I want to ask God to bring those of our blood through it.”

  They all rose, bowed their heads, and Amos prayed briefly, calling each member of the family by name, his brothers and sisters, their wives, the in-laws, the grandchildren. Finally, he stopped. Lifting his head, he smiled around at those of the Stuart blood and said, “God will continue to be with us.”

  The next day was Christmas. It was impossible to get everyone into the small living room of the old home place. They filled the house up from top to bottom, and after they had a breakfast prepared by many hands, the opening of the presents took place. They had long ago agreed not to buy anything expensive for these days, so it was a time of passing of small mementos. And after it was all over some stayed to clean up the debris while others went out.

  Outside Wendy and Alex walked through the snow that had fallen the night before—only two inches—but it made the world into a wonderland. The bare trees that had been black and almost ugly were now glittering with a pristine whiteness, and tiny icicles gleamed like glittering diamonds. The two made their way down a pathway that led to a small pond. They spoke quietly, as all sounds seemed to be deadened. When they passed over a field unmarked by any sign of human habitation, Alex said quietly, “This is beautiful. I missed out on this growing up in the city.”

  “It is pretty, isn’t it?” Wendy looked around and said, “Being in the country does something for me. Things are so busy and noisy in the city. It’s good to get out and just listen to the quietness.”

  Alex glanced over at her, admiring the sheen of her auburn hair as it caught the glow of the morning sun. She had on a red stocking cap with a fuzzy ball on the end, and it dangled down her back, swaying when she walked. His present to her had been a soft, powder-blue sweater, and she wore it now. The garment outlined her trim form, and he said, “You look very pretty—but you always do.”

  Turning to him, Wendy smiled and took his hand. She wore mittens, and he wore the fur-lined gloves he had received from her. Squeezing his hand she said, “It’s been good, hasn’t it?”

  “Yes, it has. I hope we can do this every year.” It was the closest that Alex had ever come to mentioning a permanent relationship, and Wendy glanced at him quickly. If he had asked her to marry him, she knew she would have said yes. She knew, also, that her family did not approve since Alex was not a Christian. But I could help him! she thought, her eyes lingering on his face for a moment. He’s a good man deep down, and all he needs is someone to pray for him and show him the way.

  They moved on through the woods, stopping once when a large fox trotted out fifty feet ahead. It gave them a sharp look, then without concern, disappeared into the underbrush. “He’s pretty bold, isn’t he?” Alex said. They stopped when they got to the pond and took time to throw sticks and stones out to break the skim of ice that was holding up the fine, light carpet of dazzling white snow. Then he turned to her and said, “I guess we’ll have to get back.”

  “I suppose so.”

  He took her in his arms and kissed her, and there was an insistence in his caress that both drew her and repelled her. She surrendered for a moment to the pressure of his lips, found her arms creeping around his neck. When he grew more insistent, she drew away whispering, “We’d better go back.”

  Alex gave her an odd look, and a wry grin touched his lips. “The last of the Puritans, that’s what you are! Well, come along.” They made their way back, and at noon, when they left the farm, waving at those who had come out to see them off, Wendy said, “Thank you for coming with me, Alex.”

  “No, it was good of you to have me.” He drove silently for a while, and said, “We’re very different. I’ve had no home life at all, and you have warmth and love and your people around you. That’s made a difference in us.”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “I’m not sure,” he said slowly, “that you know how much, Wendy. Your people are very religious; so are you—and I’m not.”

  Timidly Wendy touched his arm. “You will be. I just know you will.”

  He did not answer, but there was a slight frown on his face as he steered the Cord down the snow-covered road. He did not know how he felt. There was a youthfulness and a virtue and a goodness in this woman that part of him craved, and yet, he still knew that deep down she had values that he could not even understand, much less embrace. Still, he was a man who had had success with women, and turning to smile at her, he was secure in this knowledge.

  “Adam called,” Lylah said as she came out to stand on the porch beside Jesse, Gavin, Owen, and Amos. She added, “He can’t come. The airport’s closed down. They’re having the beginnings of a bad storm in California. It’d be too dangerous to fly.”

  “Probably best,” Jesse said quietly. He was disappointed but said no more. The five stood for some time watching the dogs as they treed a rabbit out at the beginning of the woods. Lylah said, “Do you remember when you came to the hospital the day Adam was born?”

  Gavin said, “I’ve never forgotten it.”

  Amos turned to look at Lylah, “Yes, I remember it very well. The nurse, she was just a tiny bit of a thing, and she didn’t know what to make of all of us.” He put his arm around Lylah and grinned at her. “I didn’t know much about babies then. He was so new that I tried to think of something nice to say, but all the time I was thinking, he looks like five pounds of hamburger.”

  Lylah’s thoughts went back to that time, and she said, “I couldn’t have made it without you all through the years—and Jesse. I remember what you said, Amos, when you
picked Adam up for the first time.”

  “I don’t remember that. What did I say?”

  “You looked down into his little face and said, ‘He has a goodly heritage, Lylah.’” Tears came to her eyes and she shook her head. “I’ve held onto that all this time. I believed it, sometimes when it didn’t seem possible.”

  “What is it, Lylah? Is something wrong, I mean more than Adam’s trouble with the law?”

  “Yes, it’s more than that. He’s troubled about the war in Europe, especially about Germany.”

  “Because he knows his father was a German?” Owen asked gently.

  “Yes, he hasn’t said anything about it, but I know it bothers him. I see him reading the papers, and after he reads about Germany invading another country, he just sort of turns me off. He turns the world off, doesn’t he, Jesse?”

  “He’s a very sensitive young man.” Jesse nodded, his face utterly serious. “I wish I could’ve done more to help him.”

  Immediately Lylah said, “You’ve done all that any father could have done!”

  They stood for a while, occupied with thoughts of Adam Stuart. They were a close-knit family, close in blood, close in emotions, and finally it was Owen who said, “God will bring him through, Lylah. He’ll bring us all through this thing.”

  It was beginning to snow. Tiny flakes fluttered down through the air, glittering as they were swept along by a moaning wind that was rising in the east, driving them into swirls around the trees, and then into the darkest corners of the woods. They grew larger, some almost as large around as quarters, and finally the five turned and walked back inside the house.

  TOO HIGH A PRICE

  As the story has it, Nero fiddled while Rome burned. This incident may be part myth, but certainly America during the year of 1940 went about business as usual while the conflict in Europe escalated into what was obviously becoming a global war. The Soviets attacked Finland and crushed that courageous people after a tremendous struggle. Winston Churchill replaced Neville Chamberlain as prime minister in Britain and in his first speech said, “I have nothing to offer but blood, toil, tears, and sweat.” Almost at that same time the German army invaded the Low Countries, demonstrating the effectiveness of the blitzkrieg, or “lightning war.”