Orchard of Hope

by Ann H. Gabhart

  This Sunday she sang “Jesus Loves the Little Children” with them because of the line in the song that said “red and yellow, black and white.” All through Sunday school she kept peeking out the window at the parking area in front of the church, but so far there weren’t any cars she couldn’t match up with regular members.

  With the singing part of the class over, Jocie set Murray down on his feet in front of the open window to give her arm a rest. He wasn’t walking yet, but he liked to stand up holding on to the windowsill and look outside. Behind her, Miss Vangie was handing out crayons and coloring books along with vanilla wafers. It was the time of Sunday school when Jocie began to count the minutes until the bell rang because the kids were beginning to get tired of being confined in one little room. And today it was an extra hot room.

  A four-year-old named Sandy came over to show Jocie her picture of a church she’d colored blue and red and to share one of her cookies with Murray. “What a pretty picture and how sweet of you to share your cookies, Sandy,” Jocie said, emphasizing the word “share” to be sure the little girl knew that was a good thing to do. Jocie moved over a little. “You want to look out the window with me and Murray?”

  “What are you looking for?” Sandy asked.

  “I was just watching all the people coming to church this morning.”

  “Why didn’t they come for Sunday school?” Sandy asked. “My mommy says everybody should come to Sunday school to learn about Jesus.”

  “Maybe they’ll all come to Sunday school next week,” Jocie said.

  “Miss Vangie will have to bring more cookies,” Sandy said.

  “She might.” Jocie laughed.

  “Look.” Sandy put her finger against the window screen to point out toward the parking lot. “There’s your daddy’s girlfriend.”

  “Oh, really. Who’s that?” Jocie said, even as she watched Leigh climb out of her tan and white ’59 Chevy with the fins in the back that looked like wings.

  “Her.” Sandy shoved her finger a little harder against the screen. “Mommy told me.”

  “Oh, you mean Leigh. You know, your mommy might be right,” Jocie said as she watched Leigh pick up her Bible and purse and then try to shut her car door with her free hand. The door didn’t budge. Leigh said the hinges must be broken or need oil or something. Sometimes when Jocie was with her, they both had to push on it to get it to shut. Now Leigh gave up trying to close it with her free hand and stepped around behind the door to push it shut with her backside. Jocie could hear the hinges creak all the way across the churchyard.

  Leigh was wearing the new dress with the white top and yellow-and-white-striped skirt that she bought when she took Jocie shopping for school clothes last Monday after they’d visited Wes at the hospital. She’d lost almost ten pounds, and she said that kind of effort deserved a new dress.

  She looked nice, Jocie decided, as she watched Leigh brush off the back of her skirt and head across the yard toward the church door. She was still what some of the church ladies might call pleasingly plump and far from skinny like Jocie was. Jocie was too skinny. If she stuffed her hair under a baseball cap and wore jeans, nobody would even guess she was a girl just by looking.

  Leigh had laughed when Jocie had told her that as they were driving home from their shopping trip. “Better to be too skinny than too heavy. At least you can eat all the cakes and doughnuts you want without feeling guilty.”

  “But don’t you think I should be starting to develop?” Jocie had asked.

  “Develop what? Hives?” Leigh looked over at her with a smile.

  Jocie didn’t smile back. “That sounds like something Wes would say.”

  “It does, doesn’t it? His Jupiterian wit must be rubbing off on me.” Leigh laughed. Leigh laughed a lot.

  “It’s not funny. You know what I mean. Something to fill out those new bras you helped me buy.” They’d bought the smallest cup size the store had, and they were still too big. “After all, I am almost fourteen.”

  “I know. September twelfth. Chocolate cake with white and dark blue icing so our teeth can turn blue when we eat it.”

  Leigh was a great cook, and the chocolate cake she had helped Jocie bake for Tabitha’s birthday in July was the best Jocie had ever eaten. Still, Jocie hadn’t been worried about chocolate cake right then. She just stared down at her hands without saying anything.

  Leigh reached over to touch Jocie’s shoulder lightly. “I’m sorry, Jocie. But you really are beautiful just the way you are.” Leigh took her hand away and smacked the steering wheel. “Ooh, I can’t believe I said that. That’s what my mother used to tell me when I worried about being so chubby. It never made me feel the least bit better, and I’ll bet it didn’t you either.”

  “Not really,” Jocie said.

  Leigh let out a long sigh. “I guess it’s just a girl thing not being happy with the way we look.”

  “I never thought about it much before, but I’m going to start high school. I don’t want to still look like a sixth grader.”

  “You won’t. You’re way too tall. I’ll bet you’ve grown an inch this summer.”

  “Two inches, but all up and none out in the right places.”

  “You will. I promise. Any day now. Some girls just take a little longer to develop than others.”

  “I only have two weeks till school starts.”

  “Well, it might not happen by then,” Leigh admitted.

  “I know. I thought about praying about it. Dad says the Lord wants us to pray about everything, but I wasn’t sure about a give-me-boobs prayer.” Jocie looked over at Leigh. “I probably shouldn’t even say ‘boobs.’ That’s not a very nice word, but ‘Lord, please give me breasts’ sounds like I want the first pick off a plate of fried chicken.”

  Leigh laughed again. “Jocie, you’re one of a kind. But you know what? The Bible says the Lord knows what we need. And I know he’s going to develop you into the most beautiful girl in Hollyhill.”

  Leigh had said it as if she really believed it, but Jocie had a mirror. She could see what she looked like. Big eyes, wide mouth, an okay nose, brown hair that just sort of hung there on her head. Most of the time she didn’t give a thought to how she looked. She was too busy to worry about makeup and curling her hair. Maybe before she started high school she needed to buy some lipstick and one of those glass bottles of makeup that Paulette, her friend here at church, dabbed all over her face and then smoothed out with her fingers.

  Jocie’s dad must have been watching out his Sunday school window too, because he met Leigh halfway across the yard. He wasn’t running away from the idea of Leigh liking him anymore. Far from it, from the smile Jocie could see on his face as he welcomed Leigh to Mt. Pleasant as if this was her very first Sunday there, when in fact she’d been coming every Sunday for two months. Jocie wouldn’t have been surprised to see him lean down and kiss Leigh. Maybe not on the lips right there in the middle of the churchyard, but on the cheek. But he didn’t. He just took her hand and smiled.

  Of course, with the way Zella said Jocie’s dad was backward in the romantic department, he might not have kissed Leigh on the lips even if they’d been standing all alone in the dark on the tiny landing outside Leigh’s apartment. Jocie had told Zella her father wasn’t backward, just out of practice. After all, it had been eight years since Jocie’s mother had packed her bags in the middle of the night and left. As far as Jocie knew, her father hadn’t kissed any females since then except her and maybe Aunt Love and Tabitha now that she was home, and that wasn’t exactly the kind of kiss Zella was talking about. Zella was talking about the kind of kiss she read about in the romance novels she kept hidden in her desk drawer at the paper.

  Wes said that reading about it was the only way Zella could know anything about kissing, since if any man had ever kissed her it had been so long ago that she wouldn’t be able to remember a thing about it. But whether she had experience or not, Zella had set herself up as matchmaker and romantic expert on the pr
emises at the newspaper office and as the final authority on how things should be between Jocie’s dad and Leigh.

  But now, as David and Leigh stood out in the middle of the yard together, the sun seemed brighter where it shone on them. It might have just been her yellow dress and his white shirt, but the air sort of radiated around them, and they looked as if they might have stepped out of a romance novel.

  Beside her at the window, Murray had run out of cookie and let out a squeal for more. Jocie’s dad looked around and saw them in the window. He waved and so did Leigh. The shaft of sunlight that had spotlighted them melted away, and they drifted over to where some other people were talking before going in for church.

  The warning bell that Sunday school was almost over sounded. Jocie picked up Murray and turned away from the window to help Miss Vangie put away the crayons and coloring books while the boys and girls lined up at the door to wait for the second bell.

  After the bell rang and the kids rushed out into the hall to find their parents, Jocie went back into the Beginners’ room to get a tissue to clean the cookie mess off Murray before she turned him over to his mother. She took one last peek out the window and finally saw a car she didn’t recognize pulling into the parking area. Jocie watched as Noah climbed out of the passenger side of the front seat and reached back in to pick up a little boy who looked about two. Jocie hadn’t thought to ask Noah about brothers and sisters. Another girl of maybe nine or ten climbed out of the backseat and then picked up a little girl who looked the same age as the little boy Noah was carrying.

  “They must be twins,” Jocie told Murray as if the baby knew what she was talking about. “I wish Tabitha was here to see this. She’s half scared of you, Murray baby. She’d faint if she had to think about having two.”

  “Two what?” Murray’s mother said behind her. When Jocie looked around at her, she went on. “I waited out in church, but thought you might be having trouble with Murray.”

  “No trouble. He’s never any trouble. I was just cleaning off his hands and face. Vanilla wafers and drool make cookie mud.”

  “Here, I’ve got a wet cloth in my bag somewhere.” She dug down in her purse until she came up with a wet washrag in a plastic bread sack. “But two what?” she asked again.

  “Two babies.”

  “Oh, my heavens. One at a time is enough. Has the doctor told Tabitha she’s having twins?”

  “No. I was just looking at the two little kids out there and guessing they might be twins.” Jocie moved to the side so that Mrs. McDermott could look out the window too.

  Together they watched Noah’s mother climb out of the car. She was tall and slender and moved with total confidence. Her skin was a beautiful bronze and her black hair was swept back in a neat roll on the back of her head. At least Jocie was guessing the woman might be Noah’s mother. She really didn’t look like anybody’s mother. She looked way too regal for that.

  “She’s beautiful,” Jocie said.

  “She is, isn’t she?” Mrs. McDermott agreed. “They must be the family that bought Harvey McMurtry’s farm. I’d heard they’d moved in.”

  “Did you think they would come to church here?” Jocie asked.

  “Well, I didn’t know, but I’m glad they decided to give our church a chance. Let’s go meet them before church starts.”

  “I met Noah—that’s the boy—Thursday.”

  “Oh, good. So he’ll know somebody.” Mrs. McDermott took Murray and led the way down the hall to the sanctuary.

  As Jocie followed her, she knew again why she liked Mrs. McDermott so much, why most everybody liked Mrs. McDermott. She didn’t just talk about loving her neighbor. She did it. She always wanted to believe the best about anybody and didn’t want to listen if somebody else tried to point out the parts that weren’t best. And she always knew the right thing to say.

  Jocie hoped Mrs. McDermott would do most of the talking now, because Jocie was feeling strangely tongue-tied. Maybe she’d just say hi and play with the toddlers. She was good with little kids. Kids liked her. Kids and dogs.

  9

  Each Sunday David was amazed at how much he could tell about the kind of week the people in his congregation had had just by looking at them in the pews as he welcomed them to the morning service. “Good morning,” David said as he made mental notes of the ones he needed to seek out after church for an extra word. “Is everybody warm enough?”

  That brought a laugh since it had to be almost ninety outside, and the cardboard fans donated by the Hazelton Funeral Home were getting a workout all over the church. “Well, I just wanted to be sure everybody got a warm welcome today,” David went on with a smile before he called on Ogden Martin for the opening prayer and then returned to his chair on the podium behind the pulpit while Jim Sanderson led the first hymn.

  Jim wasn’t the greatest singer in the world, but he was willing and loud and looked as if he enjoyed singing so much that everybody in the church felt compelled to join in. If he went off key, his wife, Jessica, just played the piano a little louder until they got back on the right notes. Singing in church was all about making a joyful noise unto the Lord anyway, and most mornings they sounded joyful if not always on pitch.

  This morning everybody was sounding a bit tentative as they started out on the first verse of “Bringing in the Sheaves.” And then a strong soprano voice rose up out of the third pew from the back, and even Jim almost forgot to keep singing for a moment. Myra Hearndon’s voice was as beautiful as she was, and she didn’t seem to give the first bit of notice to the fact that half the church had seemed to lose their voices as they looked over at her when she started singing. Or maybe she did notice and sang a bit stronger and truer because of it.

  She and her family had come in and nearly filled up one of the pews. The McDermotts had settled in the pew in front of them although they usually sat closer to the front. Jocie sat beside Noah and already had one of the twins, Elise, in her lap. The little boy, Eli, was in Noah’s lap. The girl, Cassidy, was sitting very close to her mother, helping her hold the hymnbook and singing along. Aunt Love was in her customary spot three rows back, and Leigh had joined her there instead of crowding the Hearndons by sitting with Jocie.

  Three families had moved across the aisle to settle in different pews than usual, but at least no one left when the Hearndons came in and sat down. That was something to give thanks for, David thought as he watched his congregation. Some had even welcomed Myra Hearndon and her children. The McDermotts. Mr. Harvey and Miss Sally. A few more.

  Several others smiled over at the woman and her children but seemed hesitant to speak to her for fear they wouldn’t say the right thing. Myra Hearndon had kept a friendly smile on her face the whole time. Yet David thought he caught the hint of a challenge under her smile, as if she was waiting for someone to say the wrong thing, perhaps even ask her to leave so that she could refuse.

  Before the service started, David had introduced himself to her as he shook her hand. “We’re so glad you are here this morning.”

  “Are you?” she said with that challenge in her eyes.

  “Of course. Noah said you might come when we talked last week.”

  “Oh, yes. He told me you had offered him a job at your newspaper.” She bent her head just a bit like a queen granting favor to a subject. “Thank you, but he’ll have to clear the hours with his father. My husband is working very hard to get the ground ready to put in some apple trees this fall.”

  “Noah can let me know what hours might suit him best. Tuesday is the day I need the most help because that’s the day we run the paper, but we can talk about that later. Now I hope you enjoy our services.”

  “Is that what you think the Lord wants? For us to enjoy church?”

  The question had surprised David. “Yes, I do. Don’t you? The Bible does say to come before him with gladness.”

  “So it does,” she had conceded with a smile that showed perfect white teeth. “And perhaps I will enjoy worshiping with y
ou and your congregation.”

  “It’s our prayer that you do so.”

  Now with the last verse of the song winding down, David was praying. He had his eyes open as he sang along, but he was praying at the same time. Dear Lord, let these people you have allowed me to shepherd have open minds and hearts. Let us all be here in your church to receive your message and your love and to share that love generously and without prejudice with one another.

  David was preaching on Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus. His focal verse was the one where Paul asked, “Lord, what wilt thou have me to do?” That was a question every Christian needed to ask themselves. It was a question David had asked many times since the first time he’d felt the Lord in his heart. It was a question he’d asked even more times after the Lord had laid his hand on him and called him to preach.

  Could a man ever be absolutely certain that he was following the will of the Lord instead of his own will? Every Sunday when David stood up behind the pulpit he prayed his sermon would be what the Lord wanted him to say and what the people needed to hear. Sometimes he felt the message move through him and become more powerful as it left his mouth, and other times he felt he failed completely.

  Now as he watched Ogden Martin and Harvey McMurtry bring the offering plates with the tails of bills and checks sticking up out of them back to sit on the table in front of the pulpit, he said the prayer he said every Sunday before he preached. Not my words, Lord, but thine.

  The heat was building in the church. Already David’s shirt was sticking to his back, but he didn’t loosen his tie. He took hold of the pulpit on both sides so that no one could see how his hands were shaking. He’d been preaching for almost twenty years, but he still got nervous, still had to swallow his fear of speaking in front of people. He reminded himself he wasn’t speaking. He was preaching, and the Lord would give him the power to do that if he only reached toward him in faith.