His mother’s voice whispered: God is always around us, Jed. You just got to learn to feel Him. Her nagging brought comfort, but also a reminder of how he needed to let go of his resentment.
His father’s cleanly shaven face darted through his mind. A log snapped in the fireplace. His father sat in his rocking chair every evening after supper. Countless times he’d asked Jed to sit with him. Exhausted from splitting and stacking wood while his father sold pens and paper in a store, Jed had instead crawled into bed. More than once his mother guided him into the bedroom, her arm around him to hold him up. He’d collapsed onto the bed tick and lay there wishing the moment of stillness would never end. But morning always came too soon.
Many times before he had fallen asleep, he felt his mother’s small hands rub his calves and feet. Sometimes he corralled enough strength to murmur a thank you. Other times not. Then fingertips brushed lightly through his hair followed by gentle words whispered to a God to whom she’d never failed to yield to. At least not that he knew about.
His mother prayed for his protection, asked for guidance and wisdom to raise a boy in the ways of God, and commanded the enemy away from stealing his kind spirit and meek heart. What melted him inside the most was when she’d thanked God for Jed. As if he was a prized possession. He loved his mother, and his mother loved him. But she loved God the most. Her prayers always ended the same. Please help my husband and son learn to understand one another.
Jed’s heart tore a little with that memory.
Thomas and Josiah came into the parlor.
“What’s the matter?”
“We can’t sleep,” Thomas said. “Griffin is snoring.”
Jed motioned them forward.
Thomas sat near the hearth, the heat from the fire on his back.
Josiah curled into a ball so he could relax his head on Jed’s shoulder. Wouldn’t be too long and he’d outgrow that spot. “You’re too big for this, you know that?” Jed patted Josiah.
Josiah’s shoulders lifted and fell.
Jed rocked back and forth.
Griffin’s raucous snoring filtered from the bedroom.
Thomas pinched the bridge of his nose.
Jed resisted laughing out loud.
“Are you going to go back to school with me?” Josiah asked.
“No.”
“Why not?” Thomas asked. “Because of what that mean lady said about us?”
“Not that. It’s acceptable for a man to not know how to read. I’m needed at the shop.”
“Then I’m not going either.” Josiah shifted his weight. “Paxton doesn’t go to school.”
“Hey.” Jed patted Josiah’s back. “I’ll never do anything but be a blacksmith. It might be different for you. And the papers I signed said you have to attend.”
Uneasy silence returned.
“Why did you take us in?” Thomas’s eyes looked dark, like wooden buttons. “I’ve asked you before. But I really want to know.”
“I just believed that’s what I was supposed to do.”
“That’s almost the same thing you said last time.”
Josiah’s eyes focused on Jed.
Jed went back to that very day. The clear, blue sky would’ve made a lovely backdrop for a painting, but the July sun proved nothing but mean and bright. Pressed for time, sweat drenched the back of his neck as he’d carried the supplies he’d bought at the General Mercantile. A group had gathered along the boardwalk in front of his wagon, so he’d sidestepped around them. A sign was nailed on a post. Funny thing, he wouldn’t have seen the poster if he‘d headed straight to the wagon.
Jed cleared his throat and returned from his reverie. “I saw the two of you leaning against the wall in the back. Both of you looked afraid. Petrified might be a better word. But I could tell you didn’t expect to be chosen. And I wanted to learn more, so I stepped closer. I don’t know how to describe it, but the inside of my chest felt hollow, like it had caved in. And I knew at that point, if I went back home and left you both I’d be up all night wondering if the two of you had been chosen. If not in Wellington, then at the next stop. And if you two remained together or had to be separated. I knew I’d be miserable for a long time coming if I didn’t take you with me.”
Stillness crept into the small room.
Josiah snuggled tighter to fit just right. His eyes drooped closed.
Thomas stood, opened his arms, and engulfed Jed and Josiah in an awkward hug. Then he went into the bedroom.
Jed closed his eyes and remained in that spot until morning.
~*~
According to her father’s bedtime stories, Grace’s mother waited months before she named her youngest daughter. A tiny thing at birth, Grace came out jaundiced, her face a putrid shade of yellow. The doctor didn’t give much hope for their third child. With two other daughters already, Caroline Cantrell wanted to keep her children’s names purposeful and tailored to them.
After three months, Grace had already lived longer than expected. Her mother thought of naming her Faith or perhaps Hope. But her father described the dreary afternoon he and his wife sat in their tiny farmhouse as hard rain pelted down for hours. A nasty leak dripped through the ceiling into the kitchen. Three-year-old Mercy stood near the tin bucket, intrigued by the plinking sound as water dropped rhythmically into the metal pail. One-year-old Joy lay fast asleep in the cradle while her mother nursed the youngest bundle. Very few moments occurred where all three were silent at the same time.
Leonard Cantrell said his wife looked up at him.
“This here is an example of God’s grace,” she’d said. “And He’s going to bring us that and so much more with this child.” She stroked her daughter’s eyebrows. “We will call her Grace.”
Grace pleaded with her pa to tell it over and over, since it was her favorite. Honored with the title, she felt obligated to be gracious. Perhaps that had been the reason she fell in love with teaching. Children needed discipline. And food and a roof and clothes. But they also needed grace. Good, old fashioned, on-your-knees grace. The kind that said, “You haven’t earned this, but because I love you more than you could ever hope to understand, I’ll give it to you anyway.”
And she had this gift to give. She carried it with her like a well-to-do woman would a fancy, store-bought purse. And she thought of how much she needed God’s grace as she marched toward the haberdasher’s shop, the small wrapped bundle in one rigid hand.
Hail Talbert wasn’t outside greeting townsfolk with his plastered-on smile. Or strutting the boardwalk with his thumbs in expensive suspenders.
She pushed open the store door. A bell attached to the knob jingled as she stepped inside. Two customers, a man and a woman, looked up as she entered. Hail Talbert stood among them, two pairs of men’s trousers draped over one arm.
His head lifted and a plastered-on grin brightened her direction.
Grace didn’t return the sentiment, and his smile quickly faded.
He cleared his throat. “Feel free to look around. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Grace moved two steps forward and allowed her eyes to scan the area. Tiered wall shelves displayed rows of men’s gloves, neatly folded vests, and handkerchiefs. More than a dozen different men’s shoes lined the top of a counter toward the far end of the store.
Her father wore the same work boots every day. Church, the field, in town. Didn’t matter. Clothes kept the sun off his back in the summer and the cold away in the winter. They didn’t define him. Fancy coverings did not make a man. If her father wished for fine garments such as these he never showed it.
Many nights Grace would be awake, with dreams of new work dresses with a simple calico print, or a ticking stripe lingering in her mind. Perhaps adorned with pearly, abalone buttons. But simple wooden ones would be just as a well. And a matching bonnet. Nothing too fancy. She didn’t need silk or hats adorned with real bird feathers. Just something new without stains from carrying wood or singes from the fire.
Hai
l Talbert placed the items the customers selected on the counter and did his figuring while the gentleman commented on how he would need a new overcoat this fall. The lady glanced at her a few times. The couple thanked the gracious store owner and exited.
The knot in Grace’s stomach tightened.
Hail Talbert stepped around from the counter, his hand sweeping the fine mahogany wood. “A pleasant surprise to see you here.”
Grace glared at him. “You came with Mrs. Beauregard. To the school.”
He cleared his throat. He knew exactly what she meant. “Yes, I did.”
“And what was the purpose of that visit?”
“Purpose?”
“Yes. What was your reason? Did you know what she was about to do? Or what she believes about Mr. Green’s sons?”
He opened his palms and stepped back. “Miss Cantrell—”
“You most certainly had some reason for entering the schoolhouse. Is that something you’d done before I came?”
He lowered his head. “No.”
“Then why? Because Mrs. Beauregard has made the intentions of her visits perfectly clear to me. So I assume, and forgive me if I’m wrong, that she has shared the same thoughts with you as well.”
His voice lowered. “She mentioned her concerns about the children receiving proper schooling. And she is concerned about the orphans.”
Grace was painfully aware of her angry breathing. “And?”
“And…” Hail Talbert’s voice trailed.
“You don’t have children, Mr. Talbert. You are not a sheriff or a lawman. So, I’m wondering why you are so interested.”
“The ruckus the apprentice made at the festival hasn’t been forgotten. And the two young orphans worry some of the parents, especially the one with the burn scar. Rumor has it that he started a fire. Killed his own family.” He cleared his throat. “She asked me to come along as she values my opinions on matters of the town.” A little of his arrogance returned. “As does the majority of the townsfolk.”
Grace brought her hands together and stepped toward him. “I am a young teacher. I don’t have the experience that Mr. Hennessy has in the classroom. There are things I’m sure he can do better. But those children are learning, Mr. Talbert. And they’re present. Many have already attended more days this fall than they did the entire term last year.”
“And we’re thankful to you for that.”
“If I’ve made any impression on them at all, I pray it’s that they look on others the way God does. And that they seek His wisdom and goodness in everything they do. And that includes loving orphans the way God has called us.”
“I’m sure there’s something very honorable in that.”
“Then why would you be a part of someone trying to destroy what I’m trying my hardest to build?”
The pompous man struggled to come up with words.
She extended the opened package to him. “Please do not send me another gift or come to Mrs. Farley’s home again. I cannot be courted. And when the time comes that I can be, I will not be courted by a man who looks down on those who are less fortunate. If I choose to be courted, I will only allow someone who embraces the opportunity to help others and lifts up those who have fallen, as the Good Book asks.”
His fingers curled around the package. A blaze sparked in his eyes and then disappeared. “If I have intruded in a way to make you uncomfortable, I do indeed apologize, as that was not my intention. But I do not think it’s in your best interest to align yourself with those that cannot help you better yourself. For you may surely find yourself in a situation—”
The chimes rang and two gentlemen entered the store.
Hail Talbert looked toward the front door and when their gazes met again, he inclined his head and bowed. “We can finish this conversation over—”
Grace stepped around the two gentlemen.
“Miss Cantrell,” Hail Talbert called to her. “Your sisters live not far from here. Is that not correct?”
Grace turned the knob and pulled the door open. “What’re you saying?”
“It’d be awful if you had to leave and wouldn’t be able to see them.” He placed his hand on the finely polished wood counter. “You might think about that.”
Her spine stiffened. She left the store, the pit in her gut an inch or two deeper.
~*~
The old broom served the best to push the hornets away from the outhouse. He’d given up telling the boys to just go about their business. Ducking away from two swarming drones, Jed carried the broom back around to the front of the house.
All three boys stood next to the woodpile. They ceased their whispering.
Griffin turned nonchalantly after an abrupt pause.
“What’re you all up to?” Jed asked.
“Chopping wood.” Griffin gestured with an ax in his hand. “What’s it look like?”
“Looks to me like you’re standing around.”
Thomas picked up a few of the split logs, and Josiah did the same. Both concealed a grin as they carried an arm load to the woodpile.
“How much longer you gonna be?” Jed hollered to Griffin.
Griffin swung the ax into the birch log. “An hour or so more. That’s if you still want me to split this here pile.”
“Go on ahead.” He decided to talk about something else. “We’re about outta food.”
“We’re out of a lot of things.”
“I’ll make a trip to the Todd farm. He said I could come by anytime to get corn and beans. I’ll take the wagon, so I shouldn’t be too long.”
“Stop by Darringer’s place and get that chicken he owes us.” The ax blade sank again into the wood, splitting the log.
Jed ignored his comment and went to assemble the horses.
Josiah and Thomas carried bundles back and forth. Then they picked up the long saw, one on each side of a log. Their cuts ran short and quick. The boys got stuck, and Josiah couldn’t get it going again. Jed had lost count of how many times he had told them to do long, smooth strokes. He resisted scolding them, intrigued at watching without them knowing.
Griffin hollered something at them, and they shouted back. Griffin set down his ax and strode toward them. He took Josiah’s place and made quick work of the sawing. Griffin’s shoulders had broadened and his biceps and forearms had developed. All the boys had put on some weight. Good weight.
Jed finished bridling the horses and mounted the wagon. He grabbed the reins and looked at the three before he tugged on the reins. The acquired crew had turned out better than he anticipated, and he felt ashamed that he’d just now realized it.
Griffin hadn’t run off or landed in jail. And Thomas and Josiah had a deep sense of loyalty.
His mother used to talk about strays. How a dog that ran away from a vengeful owner would be more loyal than any pup that never knew anything but pampering. The Hubbards. The Reifstacks. Mischievous. Lazy. Dishonest.
Jed had been blessed with these three. How would he ever tell them his thoughts?
~*~
Grace stepped out onto the front porch. The wind hadn’t picked up at all, and the humid air felt clammy on her skin. Edith had already gone to bed after supper before the sun set. She was growing weaker, her appetite less, her skin more pallid. But she still smiled when Grace entered the house from her school day. Her strength may have waned, but she refused to allow her joy to be taken.
Too hot to sit on the porch and not as enjoyable without Edith, Grace decided to begin preparations for tomorrow’s meal, perhaps soak some beans and husk a few stalks of corn. The toe of her boot hit something hard. A rock about the size of her fist sat on the porch. Grace picked it up and found a piece of folded paper rested underneath it. How odd.
She opened it. Large, child-like letters sprawled across the paper. Two of the four words began with a reversed letter. She laughed under her breath. Tickled, she put the rock on the porch next to the top step. Then she went inside and looked at the note again.
will yo
u mare me
mr green
~*~
If anybody ever asked Jed, the Littleberrys were the hardest working family in Sheldon. Never complained. Always a smile. Simple folks. Probably had more money than they spent, which was the way it was supposed to be. They dressed and lived simply, but they sure shelled in a heap of beans and corn every year.
Erastus Littleberry and his brother Harrison stacked a bundle of corn, beans, and a few potatoes and onions in the back of Jed’s wagon. Harrison’s beard came about an inch below his belt, and he walked with a slow gait, a result from a near deadly throw from a horse about five years ago. Still, he and his brother farmed the land they’d been given by their father. Harrison smiled as he lifted a jar in either hand. “Bessie says you gotta take some of her canned succotash home with ya. Eat the fresh stuff while it’s good and when you run out you can open these jars. Or save ’em until this winter if you’re able.”
“Tell your wife I’m mighty beholden to her. My mother made the best succotash. Don’t think I’ve had any since I was about twelve that I recall.”
“Well, you got some now.”
Erastus reached one hand out to shake Jed’s hand, the other patted his back. “Anytime you need anything. Don’t be afraid to ask. Especially since you got other mouths to feed.”
“That’s right,” Harrison nodded. “Minnie is always talking about your two little orphans. Says some of the boys pick on them, the little one, especially. Something happened the other day she was crying about. If I had two good legs I’d help you box some heads in around here.”
“No need in doing that. Boys are adjusting well, and I think we’ve dealt with anyone who needed dealing with.” Jed climbed in the wagon.
A faint hammering noise filtered in the far distance. Two men stood among the frame of a house.
Harrison stroked his beard. “That’s my two oldest boys. Started on that last month.”
“Oh, another barn?” Jed asked.
“Naw.” Harrison patted Erastus on the back. “’Bout time my younger brother gets his own place. We’ve kind of outgrown Ma and Pa’s place, all of us livin’ together. He’ll be getting married one day. Hopefully within the next year.”
Grace like a Whisper Page 15
