The Silver Star

by Gilbert, Morris

  ****

  Three days after Priscilla’s conversation with Cass, Dorothy came to the church. She found Nolan Cole lounging in the outer office and said, “Hello, Reverend Cole. Is my husband here?”

  “Yes, but he’s in a meeting with the building contractors.” He made a face and shook his head. “They’ve been at it now for two hours, and it looks like they might be in there two more. You know your husband. He doesn’t think anybody knows as much as he does about anything.”

  Suddenly Dorothy laughed. “That’s about the best description of Andrew I’ve ever heard,” she said.

  “You’re looking very nice. Is that a new dress?”

  It was indeed a new dress, one which Andrew had not noticed. It was a light tan linen day dress with a low neckline surrounded by a narrow notched collar. It had light brown ribbon running horizontally on the bodice, short sleeves, and a long skirt with a wide sash at the waist. She appreciated the attention of the man who had come to stand beside her. As she looked up at him, she thought again how attractive he was and wondered why he had never married. At thirty, she thought, he must’ve had many chances. Aloud she said, “I’ll just wait awhile.”

  “Come into my office. I’ve been wanting to talk to you about this new young people’s program that I want to start over on the south side of town.”

  “All right, Reverend Cole.”

  “You make me feel like a hundred when you call me that. When we’re alone, couldn’t it be Nolan?”

  “Of course, and I’m Dorothy.” She flashed a smile at him and entered his office.

  “Here,” he said, “have a seat, and I’ll show you what I’ve done.” For over an hour the two pored over the plans for the new youth program.

  Finally Dorothy glanced at her watch and said, “I’ve got to go. My baby-sitter will go off and leave the kids if I don’t get back soon.”

  “What about Brother Winslow?”

  “Just tell him I waited as long as I could.”

  When she rose to her feet, he came over to ask, “Do you have a way home?”

  “Oh, I’ll catch a cab.”

  “No need of that. I’ve got my car outside. I’ve got to make several calls, anyway.”

  “Well, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble. . . .”

  The two left the building, and Nolan led her to an automobile she had never seen.

  “What kind of a car is this?” she asked as he sat down beside her after starting the engine.

  “It’s a Rambler Touring Car,” he said. “It’s got a two-cylinder motor. It gets up to thirty miles an hour.”

  The heavy car moved off, and Dorothy grabbed at her hat, her red-blond hair blowing behind her. “I need a driving bonnet of some kind,” she laughed.

  “I’ve always liked that color of hair. My mother had it,” he remarked as he steered around the wagons and buggies and other cars that confronted him.

  “Did she really? Where are your people from?”

  “Originally from Indiana. We left there when I was younger, though, and moved to Albany in New York State.”

  He told her about himself until they reached the house, and when he stopped the car, he leaped out at once and came around to help her down. His hands were warm and strong, and he held hers for a moment, smiling at her. “We’ll have to work some more on the youth program. Maybe you could go over there to that part of town and look the situation over if you’re going to be in the program.”

  “All right, Nolan. I’d be glad to. Thanks for the ride.” She went into the house and closed the door behind her. On a sudden impulse, she peeked out the beveled window in the front door to catch a glimpse of Nolan as he sped away. Noticing the sun glinting on his blond hair, she wondered again why he had never married. Maybe he’s just one of those natural bachelors, she thought. But he was far too masculine and attentive to women for that. She had observed many of the women in the congregation make it a point to speak to the handsome young assistant pastor, but he seemed not to be drawn to any of them. He’ll marry one day, she thought. But he’ll be hard to please.

  ****

  Andrew’s meeting lasted until almost seven. He had fought over the details of the new sanctuary with the contractor, convincing him to change his view on several points in a way that did not alienate the man. Afterward Andrew rushed immediately to a meeting of the elders and found them impatiently waiting for him. “Sorry to be late,” he said. “I’ve been talking to the contractor. This won’t take long, but I want us to start an inner-city program to try to reach those who don’t attend church. I would also like us to begin planning for a school to train young pastors in the area.”

  Harold Parsley stared at his pastor and shook his head. “Pastor, we’ve got more than we can do now! I don’t see how we can take on any new programs!”

  Andrew smiled at Parsley and began explaining what he wanted to do. He was a persuasive speaker, and though he sensed resistance in the elders, he spoke for an hour and answered all their arguments. Finally he said, “Look. Attendance is booming, and so are the offerings. God is moving in our midst. This is no time to sit around and wait! We must launch out and reach the unsaved and the unchurched.”

  Cyrus Tompkins had been carried along by the electric personality of his pastor for a year. He had been supportive, but now he said cautiously, “There’s one problem with all this, Pastor.”

  “What’s that, Cyrus?”

  “It’s you. You’re spread pretty thin, Brother Winslow. You need to take it easier.”

  Andrew laughed. There was an exhilaration in him that overflowed. He had always been a man to throw himself into everything with all he had, and the spectacular growth of the church had spurred him on. “God’s given me strength, and I’m going to use it for Him,” he announced. “Don’t worry, brethren. I’ll be fine.”

  After the meeting was adjourned with a short prayer, Cyrus and Paul Sears stayed to talk for a moment. Sears said at once, “I think you’re right, Brother Tompkins. The pastor’s working too hard. He can’t keep it up.”

  Cyrus shook his head. “I’ve seen men like that before. They work themselves into an early grave. Work to them is like whiskey to some men. They just have to have it.”

  “I’m concerned about him. He’s lost weight,” Sears remarked. “And his family. It’s hard on them, too. We’ve got to do something to help him.”

  “Maybe hire another pastor.”

  “That wouldn’t help,” Sears said, shaking his head. “He would just find more programs. We’ve got to pray that he’ll learn to pace himself so he won’t burn out before he’s forty.”

  “We’ll pray about it,” the elder nodded, and the two men left looking sober and troubled.

  ****

  As Andrew left the meeting, he was surprised to find his cousin Cassidy Winslow waiting for him.

  “Why, hello, Cass. I didn’t know you were here. Why didn’t you let the secretary know?”

  “She said you were in a meeting with the elders,” Cass shrugged. “I didn’t want to bother you, but I do need to talk to you for a minute.”

  “Why, of course. Let’s go to my office.” Turning, he made his way down the hallway and opened a door. “Come on in, Cass.” He waited for his cousin to step inside, then closed the door and said, “Sit down and let’s talk.” As Cass took a seat, Andrew pulled up a chair across from him. “Some kind of problem?”

  “Yes. I guess you get a lot of that. People coming in with problems.”

  “It happens pretty often,” Andrew smiled. “What’s the trouble? Is it financial?”

  Cass shifted uncomfortably. He had rehearsed a little speech, but now he was not certain that it was what he ought to say, but he plunged ahead, stating, “It’s not my problem I’ve come to you about, Pastor. It’s yours.”

  Surprise caused Andrew to blink. “My problem? I didn’t know I had one.”

  Cass began to speak, commending Andrew for the fine work he had done. He spoke simply and plainly, adding
up the triumphs of the church over the year, but finally said, “Serena and I are worried about how hard you’ve been working.”

  “Oh, is that all? The elders have just been talking to me about that. But I’m all right.”

  “You may be, but . . .” Cass hesitated, afraid to take the plunge, then said quietly, “I don’t think you’re spending enough time with your family.”

  Andrew stared at the man across from him. Anger rose in him, for he was a proud man, but he waited until it passed. “You think so, Cass?”

  “Well, no man can do as much as you’ve done with the church, and at the same time pay enough attention to his family. I’d just like to see you show a little bit more balance.”

  Andrew hesitated, then suddenly smiled. “You know, I’m glad you came, Cass. I need to be reminded. I get so carried away with programs and all there is to be done that I can’t think of anything else. But I think you have a point, and I’m going to spend more time with Dorothy and the kids.”

  Cass somehow sensed the insincerity behind Andrew’s words. Not that he was lying purposely, but Cass knew Andrew well enough to realize that this was a promise lightly made. He rose quickly, saying, “Well, Serena and I will be praying for you as we always do.”

  He left the church and drove home, and when he went inside, he found Serena at once and told her what he had done. “But he won’t do it,” he said, shaking his head in frustration. “He doesn’t know how to quit work. I wish he’d break his leg or something.”

  “That wouldn’t help,” Serena said quietly. She stood, considering what Cass had told her, and then said, “Maybe you did more good than you thought. He took it well, didn’t he?”

  “He listened and he agreed, but it didn’t mean anything,” he said ruefully. “That man will work until something forces him to stop.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Amelia’s Birthday Party

  The note came as a surprise to Jolie, and she stared at it for a moment, wondering what it could mean. It said simply, “We have some work to do on the upcoming two-reeler. Please come to the studio at ten o’clock.”

  Jolie stared at the note, which had been brought by one of the young men who worked for the studio, but he left before she could question him about it. It was already nine o’clock, and she dressed hurriedly, had a quick breakfast with the landlady, then made her way to the studio. She was surprised to see several cars and buggies pulled up outside. There was no shooting today that she knew of. They were between films, and she moved quickly, curious as to what the next film would be.

  She stepped inside the studio, then, seeing nobody in the roofless section, moved to where the meetings usually took place. As soon as she stepped into the darkened room, she almost turned and left. Suddenly loud cries of “Happy Birthday, Jolie!” broke out, and the lights came on. Jolie stood speechless as she looked around the room crowded with people. Peter came over to her and said, “We caught you that time, didn’t we? Did you ever have a surprise birthday party?”

  Jolie almost said, “No, nor any other kind,” but she was speechless. Looking around she saw most of the riders standing beside Jason, all of them grinning broadly. Shifting her glance, she noticed Priscilla. Even Stan Lem was there.

  Priscilla came over and kissed her on the cheek. “Happy Birthday!”

  At that moment Lily Doe came in carrying a white cake with nineteen candles burning brightly. The group broke out singing “Happy Birthday.” When they had finished, someone said, “Blow them out and make your wish!”

  Jolie was so overcome it took her three tries, but when everyone laughed, she turned and said with tears in her eyes, “I never had such a thing before. Thank you all. Thank you so much!”

  The rest of the party was like a dream for Jolie. She received many small presents, but strangely enough, none from Peter. After the cake and the ice cream were eaten, and she had opened her presents, and they had played several silly games, Peter said, “Okay, that’s enough birthday party. Come along. I’ll help you get these presents back to your place.”

  Jolie thanked everyone again and then followed Peter outside. They had plenty of help to load the gifts in the car, then they were on their way. Peter’s hair blew in the wind as he grinned at her from time to time. “Did you notice I didn’t get you a present?”

  For a second Jolie was embarrassed. She had noticed and had felt a twinge of disappointment. “You don’t have to get me anything, Peter. You’ve done so much for me already, and I know it was you who got the party together.”

  “Well, I’m not quite the villain you think I am. I do have a present for you.”

  She turned to him eagerly, her eyes brilliant in the morning sun. “What is it?”

  “I won’t tell. You’ll have to wait until we get to your place. It’s waiting for you there.”

  Jolie could not imagine what sort of a present could not have been brought to the party, and she began to interrogate him. But he only laughed at her, shaking his head.

  “You can wait until we get there. I think you’ll like it, though.”

  When they reached her boardinghouse, Peter climbed out of the Oldsmobile that belonged to the studio and came around and helped her out. “You ready for your present?”

  “Yes. Is it in the house?”

  “No, it’s outside,” Peter remarked.

  Quickly Jolie scanned the front porch but saw no packages. She saw nothing, as a matter of fact, except a thin young man who was sitting in the porch swing watching them. “I don’t see any present,” she said.

  With a laugh Peter took her arm and steered her up the steps. When they were at the top, the young man stood up. Peter turned and said, “Here’s your present. His name’s Tom Ziegler. Happy Birthday, Jolie.”

  Confusion swept over Jolie, and she looked at the young man. He was very tall, a couple of inches over six feet. He had a lanky build, mild gray eyes, and fine brown hair worn rather long. He appeared to be about twenty, and after meeting Jolie’s gaze, he dropped his eyes and put his hands behind his back.

  “What are you talking about, Peter?” Jolie demanded.

  “I mean Tom here is your present. He’s a college student, and he’s going to be your tutor. He’s all paid up for three months. We’ll see how much he can cram into your head in that time.”

  Still somewhat confused, Jolie looked at the young man as he lifted his eyes. He smiled shyly and said, “I don’t know if I’m much of a teacher, Miss Devorak. I’ve never tried it before. All I’ve ever been is a student.”

  “Why, he knows about everything,” Peter said. “I went to the dean of the college and asked for the brightest young fellow they had to do some tutoring. This fellow never made anything but an A in his life. Isn’t that right, Tom?”

  A flush came to the young man’s rather gaunt face. He was not handsome in the least, but there was a pleasing look in his features. He looked, Jolie thought, like the pictures of a young Abraham Lincoln.

  Jolie turned to Peter. “It’s the sweetest thing you could’ve done for me, Peter. How did you ever think of it?” She suddenly reached up, pulled his head down, and kissed his cheek, something she had never done before. A flush came to her own cheeks, and she dropped her eyes, then heard Peter laugh.

  “Well, at least I got the ice broke between us. You two can start right now. Is that all right, Tom?”

  “That’s fine, sir.”

  Peter leaned over and gave Jolie a hug. “Happy Birthday, Jolie. Now, you go right ahead and get educated.”

  Jolie stood there feeling awkward as Peter took the steps in one leap, climbed into the car, then departed with a wave of his hand and a roar of the engine. Turning to the young man she said, “I’m awfully ignorant, Mr. Ziegler.”

  “Don’t call me that,” he said quickly. “Tom’s fine.”

  “That’s all right then, but you’ll have to call me Jolie or I won’t know who you’re talking to.” She smiled and said, “What do we do first?”

  “Wel
l, I brought some books. Maybe we can just sit in the swing and talk about what you might like to study for the next few weeks. We’ve got to start somewhere.”

  Jolie sat down in the swing, and Tom joined her, then reached down and pulled out a satchel of books between his feet. “Would you like to study history, or maybe arithmetic?”

  “I don’t know anything about any of them. I’m so ashamed, Tom, but you’ll soon find out how ignorant I really am.”

  A shy smile touched his broad lips. “I doubt that, Jolie,” he said. “Well, let’s start with a little arithmetic and see how you do with the basics.”

  ****

  “ . . . So that’s what I’ve come to tell you, Mr. Porter. I’m sick to death of these westerns, and I just can’t do another one.” Priscilla had come to Edwin Porter’s office, and after greeting him, she had proceeded to tell him that she could not do any more of the two-reelers.

  To Priscilla’s surprise Porter did not seem disturbed. She had expected him to try to argue her out of leaving because the short western films had been very successful. But he shrugged his beefy shoulders and said quietly, “I’m pretty tired of them myself, if you want to know the truth, Priscilla. We’ve about rung all we can out of them. Several other companies have started making them, and pretty soon there’s going to be a glut of them on the market.”

  Priscilla was relieved and said quickly, “I don’t want to seem ungrateful, but—”

  Waving his hand, Porter said, “Don’t worry about it.” He grinned then and leaned forward, excitement touching his gray eyes. “I’ve got something else, though, that you’re going to like.”

  “Another kind of motion picture?”

  “Something altogether different. It’s not my idea. One of my assistants came and told me about it. It’s the first time anybody ever gave me a good idea like this. Sit down and let me tell you about it, Priscilla.”

  The two of them sat down, and he began to talk rapidly. “What I want to do is make a series of short films that all tie together.”