Room for Hope

by Kim Vogel Sawyer

  They sat in silence again, Ernie keeping a grip on Jesse’s shoulder and Jesse staring across the room, his thoughts churning.

  Ernie’s hand dropped away. “Why’d you take off from church this morning?”

  An embarrassed grin pulled on Jesse’s cheek. “I went to my office. Picked up the telephone. Was gonna call my folks. Tell them I’m sorry for leaving and not coming back.” He snorted. “Pretty foolish. If they even have a phone, I don’t know the number.”

  Ernie nodded, his gaze locked on Jesse’s face. “You’ll probably rest better when you’ve contacted them and made your apology, like the boy in the parable. In the meantime there’s Someone else you need to talk to. No telephone required.” He stood, the pew popping as his weight left it. “Talk to your Father, Jesse. ‘But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you.’ Square things with Him. I think you’ll be surprised what a difference it makes.”

  The minister strode up the aisle and out of the building.

  Jesse sat for a moment with his elbows on his knees, his hands locked together, his head low. Then slowly, as if a gentle hand cupped his chin and lifted his face, he raised his gaze to the cross. A lump of longing tried to choke his airway. He groaned out, “God?”

  Neva

  Neva kept both Bud and Charley home from school the week after Bud’s rescue. Bud needed to rest his hip, which the doctor had popped back into place, and she feared Charley would break open his wounds. So she settled the boys in the parlor with books, puzzles, games, and the schoolwork Belle carried home each afternoon. She promised to check on them between customers, but she didn’t check on them as often as she’d intended the first few days.

  On Monday a steady stream of church folk, including the wife of each of the men who played a role in bringing Bud out of the well, came in with hugs and words of congratulations. Neva returned their hugs and tearfully thanked them for their prayers. With each visit she celebrated Bud’s homecoming anew. She found such delight in the opportunity to praise God again and again for keeping her son safe.

  Word of the rescue spread, and on Tuesday and Wednesday dozens of townspeople stopped by to tell Neva how glad they were about Bud’s safe return. Most quizzed her for details about how Bud was saved, and Neva unrestrainedly shared how Charley volunteered to go after his brother. Her use of the word brother seemed to startle some, confuse others, and in several cases resulted in outright withdrawal. But Neva chose not to let the negative responses bother her.

  Arthur stopped by at closing time Wednesday to see how the boys were healing. After spending a few minutes chatting with them, he took Neva aside and cautioned her about being too open. “Some folks aren’t taking well to the truth, Neva.”

  “I appreciate your concern.” His friendship and support meant more to her than she dared to admit. “But why should the children be forced to hide because of a shame that isn’t theirs to bear?”

  He argued with her—kindly but firmly—and she responded with equal firmness. Now that she’d chosen truth, no one would persuade her to turn back. Not even Arthur.

  Thursday and Friday were slower, the tide of congratulations finally ebbing and the flow of customers a mere trickle. Neva didn’t mind. Less traffic meant more time to peek in on the boys. Each time she entered the apartment and found the pair with their heads close together, laughing over something silly in a book or puzzling over a school assignment, her heart swelled. Bud’s resistance to Charley had melted away. Charley blossomed beneath Bud’s attention. They were growing into a family in its sweetest sense, and she’d never been happier.

  Saturday morning Bud begged to help in the mercantile. Recognizing his restlessness, Neva agreed. But he spent most of the morning perched on the apple barrel, watching passersby on the sidewalk while Neva dusted, reorganized the canned goods, and refilled the bean bins.

  At noon Neva put out the lunch-break sign and instructed Bud to stay put. “I don’t want you overdoing it on the stairs. I’ll bring a sandwich down for you. Would you also like a piece of pumpkin bread? We still have half the loaf Belle baked yesterday.”

  “I’m not really hungry.” Bud pushed off the barrel and limped to the counter. “Where are the customers?”

  Neva smoothed his hair into place. She’d given both boys haircuts earlier in the week. Bud looked so handsome. “Probably patronizing other merchants this morning. We aren’t the only store in town, you know.”

  “Yes, but Saturdays are always busy. Except for today.” Bud sent a scowling look toward the window. “How can we keep the place going if nobody comes in?”

  “Oh, Bud.” Neva laughed and gave him a quick hug. “It’s just one quiet morning. Wait for the afternoon. I’m sure things will pick up.”

  But only two people entered the store the entire afternoon, and each purchased only a few items. When Neva totaled the sales for the week, she was startled to realize how little the mercantile had brought in. She’d mistakenly counted the flood of visitors earlier in the week as customers. How could she not have noticed the cash register went largely unused? But she carefully hid her concerns from Bud.

  Sunday morning she took a loaf of bread from the mercantile shelves to make bread pudding for breakfast. The children considered it a treat. Only she knew it was a way to use up bread before it grew too stale to sell. After putting a pot of beans with a ham bone in the oven to slow cook, she and the children set out for church. They walked slowly. Neva didn’t want to put too much pressure on Bud’s hip.

  Cars and wagons passed by on the streets, heading to places of worship. Neva smiled and waved at the drivers. Only one lifted a hand in reply. The others glanced in her direction, then looked ahead as if they hadn’t seen her. Puzzled and a little hurt by what felt like deliberate snubs, Neva caught Adeline and Cassie by the hands and kept her gaze pinned on the church steeple.

  They entered the chapel as the congregation was rising to sing the opening hymn. Neva ushered the children to their usual pew, where Mr. and Mrs. Buckwelder and their three youngest children spread out from the middle to the end opposite the middle aisle.

  “Excuse me,” Neva whispered as she eased into the pew.

  Naomi Buckwelder glanced over, her mouth pursed so tightly it took on the appearance of a prune. She nudged her husband with her elbow. He fumbled the hymnal and frowned at his wife. Then his gaze bounced past her to Neva. A scowl knit his brow. He grabbed Martin by the arm and gave the boy a shove that forced him to collide with his brother and sister. Holly and Jim complained loudly enough to be heard over “Shall We Gather at the River?”

  A few people cranked their heads around to gawk. The singing faltered.

  With his face glowing nearly purple, Mr. Buckwelder crowded his family together at the other end of the pew, leaving nearly two-thirds open for Neva and the children. More than enough space. But Neva no longer wanted to sit there.

  The singers began belting out the final verse. When the hymn ended, the minister would have the congregation sit. She didn’t want to be standing in the aisle when everyone else was seated. The back pews were generally unoccupied, purposely left available for guests. With hand gestures and frowns, she turned the children toward the rear of the church.

  Neither of the back pews was empty. On the right Jesse Caudel stood just inside the aisle. On the left Arthur and his sons stood toward the center of the pew. Without a moment’s hesitation she urged the children in next to the Randalls.

  The final line from the refrain rang out. “ ‘Gather with the saints at the river that flows by the throne of God.’ ” Hymnals clunked into trays on the backs of pews, and pews creaked as people settled in.

  Neva lifted Adeline next to her as she seated herself. Then she glanced across the row of heads—two blond, two russet, and one walnut-husk brown—at Arthur, who glanced back. He didn’t smile as she’d expected him to. He looked worried. His expression chilled her, and she zipped her gaze forward.

>   Reverend Savage smiled at the congregation. “Wonderful singing this morning. And won’t that be a glorious day when we, with all the saints who’ve gone before, gather beside the throne of God and worship Him throughout eternity?”

  A few mutters rose in response, but no one offered a hearty amen.

  The young minister’s smile lost a bit of its shine, but he continued in a booming voice. “In less than three weeks, we will celebrate the Thanksgiving holiday with our families and friends. But why wait for a specific date on the calendar to express our thankfulness? Who would like to stand and share a reason for gratitude this morning?”

  As quickly as a jack-in-the-box springing its trap, Belle stood.

  Reverend Savage acknowledged her with a nod.

  She licked her lips and sent a nervous glance across the gathered worshipers. “I’m grateful my brother is here in church with me today.”

  Someone a few pews ahead muttered, “Which brother? I hear she’s got more than one.” Someone else shushed the mutterer.

  Belle laced her fingers together and hunched her shoulders. “Um, I was scared when Bud was gone. I was afraid he’d never come back, like Poppa. But Momma told me to pray, and I did, and he’s here now. So I’m grateful.” She sat.

  Neva couldn’t reach her with four children between them, but to her relief Arthur reached past Leon to give Belle’s shoulder a little pat. She smiled shyly in reply.

  “Thank you, Belle. I, too, am very grateful your brother is home.” Reverend Savage held out his hands in invitation, scanning the room. “I’m sure Belle isn’t the only one with a thankful heart today. Who else would like to share?”

  A man near the front stood.

  “Yes, Mr. Muck, for what are you thankful?”

  “Actually, Preacher, I had a question. For Mrs. Shilling.” Alfred Muck turned sideways. His narrowed gaze settled on Neva. “Back a month ago the preacher here told us your husband had died and he’d taken on carin’ for three youngsters.”

  Reverend Savage stepped off the dais. “Mr. Muck, I don’t think—”

  “But just last Tuesday”—Mr. Muck raised his voice—“when my missus went to the mercantile, the way Preacher Savage said we should, to congratulate you on your boy’s safe return, you told her your boy’s brother helped with the rescue.”

  Belle and Bud wore matching expressions of panic. Charley crouched low in the seat, and Adeline and Cassie gazed at Neva with wide, uncertain eyes. Neva pulled Adeline into her lap. Curling an arm around the little girl, she stretched her other arm across the back of the pew to gather Charley and Cassie close. Bud and Belle scooted in, too.

  “That’s right.” On the opposite side of the church, Claude Garber jolted to his feet. He folded his arms over his chest. “I found that peculiar myself. There’s only two ways I know for youngsters to be related. Being born to a set of parents or being adopted by them. I’ve never heard tell of any husband who’d adopt kids without his wife knowing about it. But I can sure name a few who’ve gone and—”

  Reverend Savage slapped his hand down on the closest pew. Both men jerked their heads in his direction. “Mr. Muck, Mr. Garber, I want both of you to sit down and hold your tongues. Kindly remember this is a house of God.”

  Mr. Muck plopped into his seat, but Mr. Garber remained standing and glared at the minister. “You’re right, Preacher. This is a house of God. Folks who come through those doors shouldn’t be carrying lies in with them. Isn’t there some verse in the Bible that says the truth’ll set a person free?”

  Reverend Savage sighed. “Mr. Garber, you’re missing the meaning of that Scripture. It references the truth of who Jesus is, God’s Son. It isn’t intended to be used as a battering ram to pummel confessions out of people.”

  “I still say lies don’t have any place in here.”

  Several people murmured assent at the man’s adamant statement.

  Neva tried to put Adeline down so she could rise, but the little girl grabbed her around the neck and wouldn’t let go. Cradling the child, she struggled to stand, and someone—someone strong—gripped her elbow and lifted her. She looked beyond Adeline’s head full of soft blond curls to Jesse Caudel, who offered a slight nod in response to her weak smile of gratitude.

  With Adeline’s soft hair tickling her cheek, Neva moved up the aisle to Reverend Savage. “Mr. Muck and Mr. Garber have asked me to tell the truth. So may I?”

  The minister hesitated, his expression uncertain, but then he nodded and remained next to her, as if forming a united front.

  Neva let her gaze rove slowly across the faces of the people with whom she had worshiped for the past fifteen years. Many averted their eyes. Others glowered at her, condemnation sizzling in their expressions. Both reactions stung. She took a deep breath.

  “More than fourteen years ago, after the birth of my twins, Dr. Zielke told me I would never be a mother again. The news devastated me. You see, I was an orphan. I never had a family. So having my own family and raising several children was my dream. And then it was taken away. Until a month ago.”

  Mr. Caudel still stood in the aisle at the back of the church. He looked directly at her, approval glowing in his eyes.

  Neva fixed her attention on him. “When Sheriff Caudel brought Charley, Cassie, and Adeline to me, I was so hurt. So humiliated. I considered sending them to an orphanage. But I couldn’t bear the thought of them growing up without a family the way I had. So I decided to keep them. But in my embarrassment—in my shame—I kept secret about how they came to be with me.”

  Her arms were beginning to ache from the weight of the child she held, but inside she felt lighter and lighter as she confessed her wrongdoing. She shifted Adeline slightly, placed a quick kiss on the little girl’s warm cheek, and went on. “But I’m not ashamed anymore. At least, not for the reason you might think. I’m ashamed of my cowardice, for purposely withholding the truth and in so doing forcing all five of Warren’s children to live a lie.”

  She turned to Mr. Garber, who’d finally sat down but hadn’t lost his stern pose. “You wanted the truth, Mr. Garber. Here it is. I’m grateful for Charley, Cassie, and Adeline because they are the fulfillment of a dream I thought was lost to me forever. They might not have come to me in a way I would choose, but they’re here. I…I love them.” She swung her gaze to the children. She smiled at each of them by turn. “All of them. They bring me joy.”

  Her knees began to quake. She stiffened her spine and the quaking stopped. She lifted her chin in triumph. “Raising them on my own won’t be easy, but with God’s strength I will do my best.” She moved up the aisle, the heels of her pumps clip-clipping as loud as nails being pounded into a length of wood in the quiet room, and slipped back into the pew next to her children.

  Reverend Savage stood for a moment with his hand curled over the back of the front pew, his expression thoughtful. Then he stepped behind the pulpit and began his sermon. Sheriff Caudel returned to his seat, but throughout the remainder of the service, Neva sensed his gaze aimed at her.

  When the congregation rose for the closing hymn, Neva quirked her finger at the children. She’d been skewered by a half-dozen stony glowers as she’d returned to her seat, and she wouldn’t allow the young ones to suffer the same treatment. She led them out the doors and down the porch stairs, moving as quickly as Bud’s leg would allow.

  When they were halfway across the churchyard, the pounding of footsteps sounded behind them. The sheriff darted into their pathway. “Mrs. Shilling, it’s cold out here, and it’s a lengthy walk for Bud. I noticed he’s still limping. Let me give you a ride home. I brought my truck.”

  Neva sighed. “Mr. Caudel, I appreciate the offer, but there are six of us—seven including you—and your truck only has one seat.”

  “That’s true, but I happen to know Charley and Cassie can fit behind the seat.”

  Neva ducked her head so he wouldn’t see her smile.

  “If Adeline sits on your lap, it’ll be tight, but I thin
k the rest of us can squeeze in.”

  Neva looked at Bud. He held his mouth in a thin line. His hip was likely paining him. She nodded. “All right. I would like a ride. Thank you, Sheriff.”

  “This way.” He scooped up Adeline, then placed his hand in the center of Neva’s back and guided her over the lawn. “And, Mrs. Shilling, when we get to your place, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have a word with you.”

  Arthur

  Leon leaned forward and tapped Arthur on the shoulder. “Dad?” Arthur grunted. “I’m driving, Leon.”

  “I know, but—”

  “Don’t bother me when I’m driving.” From the corner of his eye, Arthur caught Leroy shooting a knowing look at his brother. He scowled toward the passenger seat where Leroy slouched in the corner. “What was that for?”

  “Nothin’.”

  “Sit up and speak clearly.”

  Leroy straightened his spine and folded his hands in his lap. “Nothing, Father.”

  Leon snickered.

  Arthur blew out a noisy breath. “I thought the two of you would enjoy a drive to Beloit, but if you’re going to act like a couple of ninnies, we might as well turn around and go home.”

  “Aw, Dad.” Leon draped his arms over the seat. “Don’t turn around. I’m looking forward to eating lunch at a real restaurant.”

  “Then sit back and be quiet.”

  To Arthur’s relief, both boys gazed out the window at the brown landscape and kept their mouths closed. Arthur knew he was being unnecessarily snappish. He would apologize. Later. When he’d had a chance to bring his irritation under control. The long drive should do it. If the drive didn’t, a plate of pan-fried chicken with potatoes and gravy and buttered peas would help. At the very least, it wouldn’t hurt.

  He gave the steering wheel a light smack, shaking his head. What had Neva been thinking to stand up in front of all those people in church and announce she planned to raise her husband’s ill-begotten children? Nobody would shop at her mercantile now. They wouldn’t give their money to a woman who’d been so thoroughly scorned. She’d set herself up for disaster. And in church, no less. He snorted.