My Heart Belongs in San Francisco, California

by Janice Thompson

  “Well, I love a good cup of tea,” Cookie said, “but there’s something about freshly brewed coffee that sways me even more. Perhaps it has something to do with the smell. It permeates the room, awakens the senses.”

  “You should write advertisements for Pioneer Steam coffee, Cookie,” Abby said. “You said that so beautifully. If I didn’t already love coffee with undying passion, you would have swayed me with those words.”

  “Funny you should say I’m good with words. I always felt my truest calling was teaching. Never dreamed I’d end up in a kitchen. And certainly never dreamed Mr. Harris would drag us all the way to California. I came kicking and screaming, but I’m awfully glad I came.” She took a sip, a relaxed expression on her face.

  “I’m glad too. Otherwise we would never have met.”

  Abby paused. She’d been wanting to ask a question for days now, but hadn’t had the chance.

  “What can you tell me about Mr. Harris?” she said at last.

  “Sam’s father? Honey, some folks are harder to figure out than others. They’re like onions.”

  “They make you cry?”

  “No, they have layers. Lots and lots of layers. Now, if you’d asked me back in Independence what Mr. Harris was like, I would’ve given him glowing reviews. When the missus was alive he was a fine, upstanding citizen, first in church when the doors opened. But the man you see right now isn’t the same fellow he once was. He changed after she passed. I hardly recognize him anymore.”

  “Sad.”

  “Very. But that’s all I’ve got to say about that. No point in tipping this cart with gossip or other foolish jabbering.” She paused. With the back of her hand she swiped loose hair off her brow. “Just saying, when you throw something in a pot of boiling water, it’ll bring about a change—like a potato cooking down soft-like, or like an egg, firming up.” A reflective look came over her. “Let’s just say he used to be mashed potatoes and now he’s something else.”

  “I see.”

  “Not that I’m one to talk about others, mind you. I don’t care for that, not in the slightest.”

  “Of course.”

  “Only, when you see such a marked change in a person, you can’t help but wonder what sort of deep hurt has happened in his heart to bring about such a shift. You know what I mean?”

  Unfortunately, Abby did know. “I don’t suppose Mama was ever mashed potatoes,” she said. “Guess she started out like a boiled egg. Father’s spent years trying to turn her into something—or someone—she isn’t.”

  “Can’t unboil an egg, now can you?” Cookie laughed. “Oh, but God can. He can soften even the hardest heart. He can turn a person back toward home again, in the process.”

  “Do you really think so, Cookie?”

  “Think so?” She grinned. “Honey, I know so. Oh, the stories I could tell you about where I was headed before God got ahold of my heart.”

  “I’ve tried my whole life to change her, but haven’t won her over.”

  “Only God can change a heart, honey, whether it’s the heart of a rowdy gambler or a woman on the run from Him.” She paused. “And I’m not judging your mama. For all I know, she’s not on the run from the Lord. Maybe she’s just adventurous, in need of a break from her home life. That happens, you know. Nothing’s too big for the Lord, though.”

  Cookie began to sing a hymn at the top of her voice. Abby listened, mesmerized. She’d never heard such a vocal display of a person’s faith before.

  When the song came to a close, Cookie placed her hand on Abby’s arm. “Walking with the Lord has placed a joy in my heart and I just can’t help it. I have to sing. Can you feel it, honey? That’s the joy of the Lord, filling this very room.”

  The sound of Cookie’s singing filled the place, even as Abby worked hard to clean the dining room minutes later. Most of the patrons had long since headed out, but one person remained, Jedediah Tucker. He appeared to be about the same age as her father—but the dear soul had been beaten down by his life here in San Francisco. That much, she could not deny from his haggard appearance. Abby couldn’t help but notice the sad expression on his face as he read what appeared to be a letter.

  “Mr. Tucker, is everything alright?”

  “Hmm?” He glanced up at her and then folded the letter and shoved it back into its envelope. “Just a note from home.”

  “From your wife?”

  He nodded and tucked the envelope into a pocket inside his coat. “My oldest daughter is to be married the first Sunday in September.”

  “What lovely news. Will you be making the trip back home, then?”

  “Back to Illinois?” His shoulders slumped forward. “Not sure I could go back now, miss.”

  This took her by surprise. “Why ever not?”

  “I’m a different man from the one who left there three years back. They wouldn’t even recognize me.” He scratched his bushy beard. “Maddy would make me shave this off, first thing. That’d be a pity, seeing as how it’s just now growing back in.”

  “Would that be so awful?”

  He paused and appeared to be thinking through an answer. “Guess not, but I’ve grown to like it. And the longer hair too, which she would also frown on.”

  “Those are small things, Mr. Tucker. You can grow to like a clean-shaven face again, as well as cropped hair. That’s the beauty of change. We adapt as we go.” She took the seat next to him. “Tell me about your family. I’m dying to hear about your daughter.”

  For the first time in all the weeks she’d known him, the man’s eyes lit up. “I’ve got three daughters, actually. It’s the oldest who’s getting married. The other two are fifteen and twelve.”

  “And you haven’t seen them in three years?”

  “Only seen glimpses through their letters. They’ve grown up without me, I’m afraid. Though I dare say they’re living a far better life on the monies I’ve sent than they did as little kids.”

  “If I had to choose between fine things and time with my father, I would choose time with my father.” As soon as Abby spoke the words, she doubted them. Would she really choose time with her father? If so, why had she come all this way, leaving him behind?

  Mr. Tucker grunted. “Don’t know if they would want to spend time with me now. They hardly know me.”

  “It’s not too late.” Abby placed her hand on his. “I’ll be praying that God shows you what to do.”

  “God.” He spoke the word and then appeared to lose himself to his thoughts.

  “He’s still here, you know. You might’ve wandered from Him, but He hasn’t gone anywhere.”

  “Doubt He’d have much use for me now.” Mr. Tucker pushed back his chair and rose.

  “On the contrary. I dare say He could use you now as never before, not only to bless your family, but everyone who hears the story of all He’s brought you through. Pray about it, Mr. Tucker. And while you’re at it, read the story of the prodigal son. Great things happened when he returned home.”

  “The prodigal son?” He pushed his chair in. “That some sort of dime novel or something?”

  “No, it’s a story from the Bible. There’s a Bible in the foyer of the church, should you need one. I think you will find the story in Luke familiar. Best of all, it has a joyous ending.”

  “I could use a joyous ending. After all the money I’ve squandered—er, lost—here. Trying to picture what it would be like to return home with nothing in my pockets. Maddy would be so ashamed—of me and for me.”

  She placed her hand on his arm. “Your story will end well, if you let the Lord pen the next chapter. And if you’re wanting to prepare yourself for the journey home, then come to one or two of the classes I plan to teach.”

  “Classes?”

  “In social graces. I plan to start next Tuesday night.” She spoke her plan aloud and couldn’t take it back now. “I’ll get you ready to go back home, Mr. Tucker, I promise. You’ll return to your wife and daughters a perfect gentleman, if you let me w
ork my magic.”

  “It would take magic, indeed. That, or a miracle.” He tipped his hat and gave her a quiet “Good day” before leaving the restaurant.

  Abby took a seat, deep in thought. She’d gone and done it now, hadn’t she? Now she’d have to come up with proper lessons, and in just a little over a week’s time too.

  The more she thought about it, the more excited she got.

  To her right, someone cleared his throat. She turned to discover Sam standing next to her.

  “What was all that about?” he asked, and then took a seat next to her.

  The sting of tears caught Abby by surprise. “Jedediah Tucker’s daughter is getting married.”

  “And you’ve encouraged him to go back home?”

  “Yes. I hope he will take my advice.” She felt a smile tug at the corners of her lips. “I promised to help him prepare for the journey.”

  “With lessons in social graces, starting next Tuesday night.” Sam’s wrinkled brow shared his concerns. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Abby.”

  Tender feelings for Mr. Tucker were now replaced with angst. “Sam, I wish you wouldn’t treat me like a child.”

  “What?”

  “You do it frequently. I might not be worldly, but I’m not a fool, either.”

  “Why, I never said you were.”

  “But you’ve implied it. You’re always treating me like a youngster. Don’t you see?”

  “I … I hadn’t realized, Abby. I’m just looking out for you because, well …” He paused, and concern flashed in his eyes. “I care about you.”

  Her anger dissipated as she gazed into his handsome face. “I appreciate the caring. I really do. But some things I just need to try on my own, to see if they work. These little classes of mine could prove to be a big flop. But I’d rather learn on my own. If I fail, I will be the first to admit the idea was foolish. But if I succeed, then men like Mr. Tucker will be better off for it.” She paused to think through her next words before speaking. “And I seem to recall you wanted my help as well, so I will expect you to attend, of course, to set an example for the others.”

  “Oh, no.” He put his hand up. “Not my cup of tea.”

  “We’ll see about that.”

  She would talk him into taking etiquette lessons. Then the other men would follow his lead. Yes, she could almost see it now—the room filled with gentlemen ready to learn social graces. What a wonderful plan this was turning out to be.

  After his conversation with Abby, Sam headed into the kitchen to talk to Cookie. He found her standing in the open door, gazing out onto the back alley.

  “Everything all right?” he asked as he approached.

  She turned to face him. “Oh, sure. Just got a little overheated.”

  “It’s hotter out there than in here,” he observed.

  “Hardly. This kitchen is like an oven. Or maybe I’ve just been on my feet too long. Feeling a mite exhausted.”

  He pulled a chair over to the open doorway and encouraged her to sit. She eased her ample frame downward, beads of sweat trickling down her brow in the process.

  “You work too hard, Cookie,” Sam said. “I’ve got to remedy that.”

  “I was born for hard work. And these fellas are worth it.” She pointed out to the alley, where several of the local men sat on wooden crates, gabbing.

  “They’re a piece of work, in and of themselves.”

  “They are, but like I said, they’re worth every minute of work on my part. Sometimes I stand here and pray for them—pray for the whole town, actually. I lift up their names to the Almighty and ask Him to turn their hearts toward home.”

  “Funny you should say that. Abby just told me that Jedediah is giving thought to going back to Illinois.”

  “Is he, now?” Cookie looked pleased to hear this. “Well, there’s another prayer answered, then.”

  “If they all go home, you won’t have any customers left,” Sam teased. “What then?”

  “Well, I don’t mean home in the literal sense. I’ve been praying that God tugs on the hearts of these men, to turn them back to Him.”

  “I see. Just what we were talking about on Sunday morning. You take this task seriously.”

  “More seriously than you know.” She turned back to look out the door. “Sammy, I know what everyone thinks about San Francisco. It’s nothing but a bunch of philandering hoodlums throwing money this way and that. Men filled with greed. Lust.”

  “Can’t argue any of that.”

  “Right.” She paused and appeared to lose herself to her thoughts. “But I see something completely different, Sammy-boy. Every time I walk these streets I try to imagine what this place will look like a hundred years from now.”

  “Can’t even imagine. Thank goodness, we won’t be around to see it.”

  “No, but those who come after us will be, and we have an obligation to set things a’right for their sake. If we stay the course, if we pray, if we take a stand for what’s right, then this city can rise from the proverbial ashes and become a place folks will be proud of in years to come. Think on that, honey. We have the power to change things, right here and now, and those changes will have long-lasting effects.”

  “When you put it like that, I can almost see it myself.” And he could. He could almost picture a city filled with godly folks, normal folks, tending to their daily business with sensible heads on their shoulders.

  “Even in the biblical cities of old, God honored the faith of the people in a place,” Cookie said. “He spared folks because of a few who were diligent to pray.”

  “True.”

  She turned to face him, her shoulders squared. “So I’ve made up my mind to be one of the ones who never gives up on this city. I’ll keep on praying until God moves in a mighty way.” Her words increased in passion. “And who knows, Sammy. There may come a day when the mud has dried up, and beautiful houses are filled with happy, laughing families—husbands, wives, children. We simply have to believe that God is capable of using us as a springboard for all of that.”

  “Where did this amazing faith come from, Cookie?” he asked. “Seems to me like you must’ve been born with it.”

  A dark cloud seemed to pass over his friend for a moment. When Cookie did speak, her words carried a hint of pain. “My life hasn’t been easy, honey. Before I ever came to work for your mama, my husband passed away. I was just a young thing, not much older than yourself.”

  Sympathy gripped his heart. “Oh, Cookie, I’m so sorry. I had no idea.”

  “Not something I talk about, to be honest. All I ever wanted was a happy marriage and a houseful of kids to cook for.”

  “There were no children?” These words came from Abby, who must’ve entered the room without his notice.

  “There was one.” The edges of Cookie’s lips curled up in a gentle smile. “Evie. We named her after my mother, Evelyn.”

  This news caught Sam completely off guard. He didn’t remember Cookie having a child. “Where is she now?”

  “With her daddy. In heaven.”

  Sam’s heart plummeted to his belly. How was it possible he hadn’t known this about a woman who’d cared for him all of her life? Sweet Cookie had poured out her love on him, never once thinking of herself. His admiration for her grew, nearly at the same rate as the lump in his throat.

  “Oh, Cookie!” Abby’s heart was so heavy, she couldn’t help but weep. She drew near and slung her arms around her friend’s shoulders. “It’s too much to bear.” She bowed her head, the tears now coming with abandon.

  Cookie patted her on the shoulder and let her cry.

  “I thought so at the time. My husband had only been gone a few months when Evie got sick with scarlet fever. I’d walked the valley of the shadow so recently I felt I knew its crevices too well.” She fell silent. When she did speak, her words were laced with pain. “Of course, this all happened years ago, but it still feels fresh when I speak her name.”

  “Evie.” Abby
whispered.

  “Yes. Evie.” Cookie’s eyes misted over as she looked into Abby’s tearful face. “Can I tell you a little secret, honey?”

  “Of course.” Abby stepped back and swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

  “Evie would be the age you are now. At least, I’m guessing she would be. How old are you?”

  “Twenty-three.”

  Cookie brought her hand to her heart. “To the year. And when I look at you with your glorious honey-colored hair and pale complexion, I can almost see what she would have looked like. My Abe had light hair and fair skin. I feel sure she would have turned out to be very much like you.”

  “With more sense, I would hope,” Abby said.

  “Probably not, considering her lineage. But a girl with a joyous expression on her face, and a song in her heart, always thinking of others.”

  “Oh, Cookie, is that what you think of me? You think I put others first?” A lump rose in Abby’s throat. “I wish I could say that, but I’m more selfish, I fear.”

  “Selfish?” These words came from Sam. “Abby, you’re anything but. You’re the first—maybe second, after Cookie—to think of those around you.”

  “Perhaps it looks that way, but I know my heart better than anyone else.” She tried to swallow the lump in her throat. “The truth is, I came all the way to San Francisco to prove a point to my parents. To hurt my father for driving Mother away. I didn’t do this for them … I did it to them. Don’t you see?”

  Cookie slipped her arm around Abby’s shoulder and leaned in close. “Perhaps, sweet girl, but even with that, I have good news. What the enemy meant for evil …”

  “God will use for good.” Abby nodded. “I pray that is the case here. It was a long road to travel, just to let the enemy win.”

  “He never does, unless you let him.” These words came from Sam. “And just for the record, you two have convinced me that we must work harder to assure he never does.”

  “Does that mean you’re putting your stamp of approval on my classes?” Abby’s heart lit with the prospect of what that would mean for the others.

  “If I have to don my finest suit and walk around the dining hall balancing books on my head to show my gracefulness, then yes. I’ll do it.” He gave her a look so tender it almost melted her heart. “But not so much for the menfolk, Abby, as for you.”