“Just look at these babies,” Josephine continued. “I can’t believe how fast they’re growing!”
Gloria surged with pride at a compliment given by such a successful, accomplished mother. She searched for a wise, insightful response, but Josephine’s attention was commanded by Charles, who seemed determined to yank off his shirt buttons. There was no other opportunity for conversation after that because Reverend Fuller had taken his place at the front and was attempting to bring a congregation full of women and children to attention.
“Good morning. Good morning,” he repeated until the room was brought to a hush. “Let us raise our voices in song to our Lord.” He reached into his breast pocket and produced a pitch pipe. A subtle humming filled the room as the women found the note before the tiny church erupted in song.
“There is a name I love to hear,
I love to sing its worth;
It sounds like music in mine ear,
The sweetest name on earth.”
Gloria had heard Maureen sing this song countless times as she puttered around her kitchen. They’d sung it last week, too, though the song sounded lighter without the rich male tones. She felt the words bouncing through her brain, felt the tune at the back of her throat. The lyrics of the verses eluded her, but when the chorus came around for the third time, Gloria found herself mouthing the words.
“Oh, how I love Jesus,
Oh, how I love Jesus,
Oh, how I love Jesus,
Because He first loved me!”
When the final “Amen” came, she was coming as close to singing as she ever had in her life.
Reverend Fuller invited them to sit. Just as the rustle of skirts and petticoats died down, Adele Fuller walked through the door. Gloria scooted closer to the wall, dragging Maureen with her.
“We can move down to make room,” she said with a slightly authoritative air.
“All right.” Maureen caught Adele’s eye and patted the bench beside her.
“Well, I can see by the faces here that we are well into the time of harvest,” Reverend Fuller said. “I considered canceling our services this morning, but then who am I to deny such lovely ladies an opportunity to worship?”
A soft ripple of laughter affirmed his decision.
“You know, if a stranger were to walk into our little church for the first time today, he might get the idea that we were a community devoid of men, wouldn’t he? A stranger just might look at the faces of these precious children here and mistake them for poor, fatherless orphans.”
Yes, yes, bonnets nodded in agreement.
“But in truth there’s not a one among us who doesn’t have a father.”
That’s right, the bonnets concurred.
But Gloria held her head still as stone, her eyes locked on the old man at the front of the church.
“For we are all children of God. We can all claim the same Father as did His Son, Christ Jesus, can we not?”
A surge of passion coursed through the little crowd as delicate gloved hands were raised to half-mast affirmation. Gloria gripped her son tighter than she had just moments before.
“Now I know there are those among us who live without the guidance and comfort of an earthly father.” Yes, yes. “And some of us have lived a life abandoned. Maybe unloved.” That’s right. “I look back there,” he gestured toward the last row and panic surged through Gloria, “and see my lovely daughter.” The bonnets turned to dip in acknowledgment. “And most of you know that she and I don’t always see eye to eye on everything.” Soft, soprano chuckles. “But there is nothing she could do, no ambitious business decision, no extravagant silk gown that could make me love her any less.”
“Amen.” Adele’s throaty voice coaxed a ripple of giggles.
Gloria cut her eyes to the right, but Maureen and Kate blocked her view of the reverend’s daughter. She wanted to lean forward—just a bit—to get a glimpse of this woman who lived the life Gloria had always longed for. She didn’t envy the latest gown specially ordered from New York or the acres of land she owned that allowed her to buy such luxuries. Gloria would have lived her life in rags in a sod house teeming with vermin if she could have done so with this man. From her vantage point, she could see only Adele’s skirt—pumpkin-colored silk with black velvet piping. She focused on that swatch of skirt and shot mental accusations. If I had such a father I would live a life to please him.
“I have always looked to the Scriptures to know how to be a good father,” Reverend Fuller continued, “to know exactly how to discipline. How to provide. How to love.” Gloria could feel Adele beaming. “What is just as important, though, is to look to the Scriptures and know that we can be more than just imperfect children of mortal parents. Jesus called God ‘Father,’ and He invited us to do so, too. When He taught us to pray, He told us to say, ‘Our Father.’ Our Father.”
The restlessness of the opening remarks came to a halt as the women settled in to listen. Gloria shifted Danny to rest against her shoulder, pressing her hand against his back to keep him quiet. And close.
“I am the pastor to all of you in here,” Reverend Fuller said, his hands sweeping the crowd. “All of you in here may call me ‘Reverend,’ but only one of you can call me ‘Papa.’ But anybody who believes in God, anybody who will receive Him gets the right to become children of God. Galatians 4:6 says that God sent the Spirit of His Son into our hearts, the Spirit who calls out ‘Abba, Father.’ Do you know what ‘Abba’ means?”
No.
“Ancient Hebrew children, when they needed comfort and guidance, when they needed love and attention, when they had a heavy heart or a bleeding knee, would run to the man they knew as Abba—Papa—and climb into his lap. Do you know that feeling?”
No.
“Romans 8:15 says that when we receive Christ into our lives, we receive a Spirit of adoption. We become God’s child. That’s why I can look across this room at each of you, not knowing where all of you came from or what kind of family you had, and say that there’s not a one among us who doesn’t have a father.” Gloria’s eyes never left the Reverend, and while his own gaze roamed the crowd, she was sure his voice was aimed directly at her. “All of us in this room who recognize Christ, who will open our hearts to acknowledge Him, have the right to look to the almighty God, creator of the world, and call Him Abba, Father.”
On the bench against the wall, Gloria buried her face in the soft warm neck of her fatherless son and whispered the word. “Papa.” It was the first time she had ever said the word out loud.
Shortly after the final Amen of the final hymn, the women filed out of the little church, pausing to take the hand of their beloved Reverend. There was no real hurry to leave; this was a time of reflective conversation. Gloria and Maureen—babies in tow—trailed behind the celebrated Adele, who planted a daughterly kiss on her father’s weathered cheek. “Wonderful sermon, Papa,” she said with a grin.
“Such high praise coming from you, my dear,” Reverend Fuller said, his tone matching her lightness.
Maureen, following behind Adele, took his hand and jostled baby Kate, saying, “This little girl is just as lucky as yours, Reverend.”
“Ah, yes.” He took Kate’s hand between his thumb and forefinger. “MacGregan seems like a fine man. Everything going all right?”
“Just wonderful,” Maureen said. “We’re becoming a regular little family.”
“Does that mean, then, that you’re planning to stay in Middleton after all?”
“It means, Reverend, that I like being where I’m needed, and right now I’m needed here a lot more than I am with my sister in St. Louis.”
Gloria wasn’t sure what she had just witnessed, but the blush in Maureen’s cheek was unmistakable, and the glint in the Reverend’s eye wasn’t there when he greeted any of the other women.
When it was Gloria’s turn to share the top step with the Reverend, she found she had nothing to say. She simply extended her hand once again, but this time her grip w
as strong. His eyes were so kind, but it was clear that if either of them was going to speak, it was going to be her. “Thank you,” she managed to say, though she wasn’t quite sure what she was thanking him for.
Reverend Fuller released Gloria’s hand, gripped her by her shoulders, and pulled her to him, placing a soft kiss on her forehead.
“Welcome to our family,” he said.
Outside the church, women were loading themselves and their children into their buggies and rigs. Amidst the flurry of good-byes, Josephine Logan turned to Maureen and asked if she and Gloria were planning to stay for a picnic dinner on the church lawn. Gloria nodded enthusiastically, still remembering the delicacies John William had brought back from his first visit to the Middleton church.
“But everybody’s leaving,” Maureen said. Indeed, the crowd had dwindled to just Maureen, Gloria, Josephine and the children. Even Reverend Fuller was gone, having taken his daughter to his home for an after-church dinner. “And I didn’t bring anything—”
“I did,” Josephine said, a note of triumph in her voice. “Not much, but enough to make a nice snack before a long ride home, and give us a chance to talk.” This last remark was directed straight at Gloria. For the second time that day Gloria felt warmed by the attention of this woman. “Eliza,” Josephine said, “hand down that basket. Charles, you can help spread the blanket.”
There certainly was enough for a snack. Josephine had a length of venison sausage, a loaf of bread, and a stone crock of soft cheese. She’d been experimenting with goat’s milk cheese and declared this to be her most successful attempt yet. There were half-a-dozen tart green apples, picked too early at her eager young son’s insistence.
Like the babies’ clothes, the meal spread in front of them was just another example of Josephine’s generous spirit.
“I’d say there’s more than a snack here,” Gloria said as each item was brought out of the basket. “Thank you for sharing with us.”
“It’s our pleasure,” Josephine said, slicing the sausage into thin rounds. “Who’s feeding your crew today?”
“I sent them out with some bread and butter,” Maureen said. “We’re running low on just about everything, feeding those men. I’m hoping they’ll come in a little early and maybe get some fish for dinner. We haven’t had a good fish fry in a while. Otherwise, looks like beans and cornbread tonight.”
They had spread a quilt in the grass beside the church, situating themselves where they could soak in the autumn sun while being sheltered from the autumn breeze. Gloria settled herself at the blanket’s edge and leaned back against the church wall. She opened her blouse and brought Danny to her breast to nurse, draping a shawl across her shoulder. Josephine took a plate from the bottom of her basket, loaded it with goodies, and set it within easy reach of Gloria. Maureen gave Kate a crusty bread heel to keep her occupied until Gloria could nurse her. Before sitting down herself, she smiled and produced a small paper package tied with string.
“Here’s our contribution to the meal,” Maureen said, smiling. “Molasses cookies. I brought them for the ride home.”
“Why didn’t you tell me we had cookies?” Gloria asked, her voice a mix of delight and petulance.
“Because then we wouldn’t have had any for the ride home.”
The three women laughed and promised Eliza and Charles that the biggest cookies would be theirs if they ate their meal quietly and behaved. They settled into easy conversation. Maureen reported the status of their crops, the bounty of her garden. Gloria gave a glowing report of the latest milestones of the babies—sitting up, pulling up, sounds suspiciously close to being actual words. Josephine said that David and James would be able to bring in most of their crop. They didn’t have much more than what they would need through the winter; David was intending to raise sheep next year. They were expecting to get the start of their first flock in the spring.
“I guess David was just meant to be a shepherd,” Josephine said, laughing. Maureen laughed, too, and Gloria was sure there was a joke in there somewhere. She produced a polite chuckle and told herself to remember to ask Maureen about it on the ride home.
“He’s wanted to go into ranching since we got here,” Josephine continued, “but the opportunity just hasn’t been right until now.”
“How long have you been here?” Gloria asked.
“Let’s see … we were married just before we arrived, had James three years later, he’s twelve … about fifteen years.”
Maureen shot her a look of surprise. “You married just before you arrived? You got married on the trail?”
Josephine blushed a bit and cast down her eyes.
“I’ve been here since forty-nine,” Maureen said. “I thought I knew everyone’s story. Guess I missed one.”
By now Josephine was fully blushing, and Gloria would have felt sorry for her had she not been so curious about Josephine’s story.
“Well,” Josephine began, then noticed little Eliza leaning forward. “Eliza, get the water jug out of the back of the wagon and take it to the water pump just over there.” She pointed to the blacksmith’s building some fifty yards away.
“Aw, ma,” Eliza said. “I wanna hear the story.”
“Go. And take Charles with you.”
“Yeah!” Charles said.
When the children were well out of earshot, Josephine took one delicate bite of apple and began.
“My parents and I came over with a train of other families. About fifteen wagons. David was one of the scouts. I thought he was just about the most handsome thing I’d ever seen. He wore buckskin pants and had a knife strapped to his leg. He had a beautiful black horse named Bullet that he rode in circles around the wagons every evening, and sometimes when we stopped for meals he let some of the little boys ride him. That’s how I caught his eye—he was giving my little brother a ride. I’ll never forget it. David was sitting up tall in that saddle, my little brother clinging to his back. Well, he smiled down at me and said, ‘Hey, little girl. You want to go for a ride with me sometime?’ ”
“What did you say?” Gloria asked. Danny was finished nursing, and she handed him over to Maureen who, in turn, passed Kate to her.
“I told him that I was not a child, and if he wanted to go for a ride with me, he could just come and court me proper.”
“How old were you?” Maureen said, rubbing Danny’s back and bouncing him on her soft lap.
“Sixteen. Sixteen and thinking I knew all I had to know about life. Well, my father was not about to let me go off with some wild wagon scout. And we were in the middle of nowhere, so we didn’t exactly have any church socials to go courting to. So the first time he came riding around our wagon, my father told him that he could just ride himself right off.”
“But you didn’t,” Gloria said.
“Oh, no.” Josephine’s face took on the glow of the girl she’d been fifteen years ago. “I made eyes at him every chance I got, just a terrible flirt. And he tried just about everything to get to talk to me alone. So one evening, I’m dumping out the dish water, and he comes up to me, leans down real close and says, ‘How about going for a walk with me tonight?’ ”
All three women emitted a sound of delight, as if they had been transported to their sixteenth year, face to face with a dashing young suitor. Even Gloria managed to conjure a feeling of innocent thrill.
“And you said …” Maureen prompted.
“What do you think I said? I waited for my mother and brother to fall asleep in our wagon. My father actually slept outside, so that was a little trickier. I unlatched some of the canvas ties and snuck out the side.”
“And he was waiting for you,” Gloria said.
“He was indeed. We didn’t say a single word. He just took my hand and we started walking. When we thought we were out of earshot of the men on watch, we started talking. Whispers at first, then he said something funny, and we laughed and talked some more. And walked some more, and before I knew it, we were lost.”
&n
bsp; “Lost?” Gloria’s voice was full of skepticism. “What kind of a scout gets lost?”
“The kind that’s sparking a pretty young girl,” Maureen said.
“All I know is that one minute I looked over my shoulder and saw the fires in our camp, then I looked back and there was nothing but darkness. I was terrified. I just knew we were going to get eaten by wolves or attacked by Indians—”
“Or found by your father?” Maureen asked.
“Especially that,” Josephine said. “But it was pitch dark outside. I couldn’t see a thing. I couldn’t see David, and he was right next to me.”
“I’ll bet he was,” Gloria said.
“So he said the safest thing to do was just to stop. Right there. Before we got any further away.”
“Good decision,” Maureen said. “Sometimes when you don’t know where to go, it’s best to just stay put.” She waited until Gloria was looking right at her before adding, “Besides, you couldn’t have been far from the dawn.”
“It seemed like it at the time. But we just sat down and—”
“Prayed?” Gloria asked.
Josephine sent her a puzzled look. “Why would you say that?”
Gloria shrugged. It just seemed like one of those stories where everybody ended up praying and everything turned out all right.
“Well, we didn’t,” Josephine said, seeming a little embarrassed. “We just sat together for a while, then he kissed me. It was my first kiss, and I thought to myself right then that if we survived that night, I would want to spend the rest of my life kissing him.”
“Aww,” Maureen and Gloria said in unison.
“Then he tried something else, and I slapped him, and I decided that if we lived through that night, I’d let my father do whatever he wanted to. And that’s when I really got scared—thinking about my father. What was I going to say? How was I ever going to earn his trust or forgiveness?”
“And did you?” Gloria asked.
Ten Thousand Charms Page 22
