A Home for the Heart

by Michael Phillips

  She stood up and I joined her, and we walked out into the family room where everyone else was gathered.

  Pa’s face had a big smile all over it. I knew in an instant that Christopher had asked him.

  “Well, what is it, Drummond?” asked Almeda. “You look as if you know something and are dying to tell all the rest of us.”

  “I reckon I do at that!” said Pa.

  “Then tell us, for heaven’s sake!” laughed Almeda.

  “Well, it’s just this, then,” said Pa. “Blamed if this young Braxton fellow didn’t just ask me if he could make my oldest daughter his wife!”

  “Corrie!” Almeda exclaimed, bursting into tears.

  She spun around and threw her arms around me. Becky too was beside me in an instant, and within seconds they were joined by Tad and Zack whooping and hollering and trying to get to me too. Only Pa and Christopher hung back, chuckling and smiling to themselves.

  “Oh, Corrie, I’m so happy for you!” said Almeda, sniffing and wiping her eyes with the dirty apron she still had on. I don’t think I’d ever seen such a huge smile on her face.

  Meanwhile, Zack and Tad had completed their well-wishing with me and were over shaking Christopher’s hand in manly congratulation.

  The hubbub slowly died down. Christopher caught my eye and smiled, and I returned it kind of sheepishly. Of course I was happy—wonderfully, deliriously happy!—in spite of my embarrassment. Who wouldn’t be happy? And I guess I felt relieved, too, that it was finally all out in the open and we could talk about it. How could I have ever thought that Christopher would change his mind! But I still felt red and hot and was perspiring all over.

  “Well . . .” said Almeda impatiently, when the silence became complete and Pa still hadn’t said anything.

  “Well, what?” asked Pa.

  “Well, what answer did you give the man, Drummond, for heaven’s sake?” she said, nearly stamping her foot with laughing impatience.

  “Didn’t give him no answer at all.”

  “What!” exclaimed two or three voices at once. All the time, Christopher and I stood halfway back watching and listening, and glancing at each other every once in a while.

  “He wouldn’t let me answer,” Pa went on. “Before I could say a word, Christopher here told me he didn’t want my answer right yet. Matter of fact . . . he don’t want it for a year.”

  “A year!” exclaimed the same two or three voices again.

  “That’s right. Seems the young feller’s got the notion that it ought to be my decision whether he and Corrie Belle are right for each other. And he don’t figure I can say one way or the other till I know him a mite better than two men can who just barely met.”

  “But what will happen, then, for the whole year?” asked Almeda, bewildered by the whole thing.

  Pa shifted on his feet, then glanced over at Christopher.

  “You wanna try and explain it to my wife, Braxton,” he said. “I ain’t sure I more’n half understand it myself.”

  Christopher laughed.

  “I’ll try, Mr. Hollister,” he said as we all began to take our seats again.

  “Are all of you ready for dessert?” asked Almeda. “We can serve it up before Christopher begins.”

  Nods went around the room, and I sprang up to help. Having something to do was better than just standing or sitting while everyone talked about Christopher and me.

  Once we all had a piece of pie or cake in front of us, Christopher began, speaking mostly to Almeda, but glancing now and then toward Pa or me. He told them what he had written me—about his church and how he had arrived at his idea.

  “I don’t know if you’d call it an apprenticeship engagement,” he said, “but something like that. During that time I would like to work for your husband, and you too, Mrs. Hollister, and submit myself to you in every way. If I want someday to be called your son-in-law, then I feel I have to earn that right in your eyes. I want the two of you to know me so well that you will know whether you want me for a son or not . . . and whether you feel I’ll make a worthy husband for your daughter. After a year, you’ll probably know some things about me that I don’t even know about myself! And of course, Corrie and I will know each other better too.

  “I realize an arrangement like I’m proposing is highly unusual,” he went on, “and that probably most folks would consider it just about the craziest thing they’d ever heard. But I happen to think there’s wisdom in it, and some scriptural precedent as well. Marriage is too sacred an institution to take lightly, Mr. and Mrs. Hollister. I don’t take it lightly myself, and I want to give the two of you and your daughter enough time to make a wise decision among yourselves regarding Corrie’s future. I care too much about her to rush into it.”

  A long silence followed. Neither Pa nor Almeda had ever heard the likes of what Christopher was proposing.

  “Well, what do you think about all this, Corrie?” Pa said finally, turning toward me.

  “He’s a wise man, Pa,” I answered softly. “I trust him.”

  Pa just nodded his head, then rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

  “Yep,” he said, halfway to himself, “I think I’m starting to see that already.”

  Chapter 28

  Christopher’s First Days

  Church the next day was so merry.

  Mrs. Sinclair had done her work well. Everyone for miles knew that “Corrie’s beau” was in town, and most of them came to church hoping to see him. There was hardly room for everyone, and we had to squeeze in tight.

  Rev. Rutledge asked me to introduce Christopher, which I did. As I stood up and turned around, the most visible face in the whole congregation was Mrs. Sinclair’s. She sat there beaming, almost gloating, as if she had personally orchestrated the whole relationship between Christopher and me. She glanced around as if to say to one and all, “Do you see? It’s just like I told you!” For all I knew, half the people sitting there thought Gertrude Sinclair had introduced Christopher and me and that he would not even be in Miracle Springs had it not been for her!

  Gossips are like that, I guess. They like to put themselves into the middle of the news they spread about. I guess it makes them feel important when there’s nothing much in their own lives to interest them.

  This one time, however, I could forgive Mrs. Sinclair. I was too happy to worry about it.

  Christopher seemed highly amused by the whole situation. As we visited after the service, he made such a point of turning on the charm with Mrs. Sinclair, even calling her by her first name, that the poor lady was helpless.

  Even as everyone was still emptying out of the church after the service, Christopher had already approached her even before I caught up with him outside the church.

  “ . . . one of the loveliest dresses I have ever seen, Gertrude,” he was saying. “You must have ordered it from the East.”

  “Why . . . why, yes, Mr. . . . uh, Mr. Braxton, as a matter of fact, I did. However did you know?”

  “Oh, I know quality and good taste when I see it, Gertrude. And your hat is positively stunning.”

  I had walked up to Christopher’s side, but I don’t think Mrs. Sinclair even saw me. By now she was blushing—something I doubt she’d done for years—and struggling to reply, though without much success. At last she noticed me and used my arrival to escape the unaccustomed awkwardness.

  “Corrie, this young man of yours is a charmer!” she said.

  “I know quality when I see it too, Mrs. Sinclair,” I said. We all laughed, and then Christopher and I gradually began visiting with everybody else who was crowding around.

  Now they could all see us together in person and could talk all they wanted. And now that Christopher had spoken with Pa, I didn’t mind nearly so much. The uncertainty was over—at least some of it.

  I knew everyone wanted to know whether Christopher and I were engaged. But none of us brought it up, and they would never ask such a forward question right to our faces. It would be up to Christopher and
Pa to tell people how things stood . . . if they wanted to, when they wanted to, and in the way they wanted to.

  It was another hour before we finally got loaded up and on the way home! Christopher came with us, of course—to eat dinner and to talk about the future. He didn’t want to waste any time getting his plan underway.

  After we ate, Christopher and Pa and Almeda and I sat down and talked the whole thing over.

  Pa was still a little befuddled by Christopher’s proposal. I know he and Almeda had stayed up late the night before talking about it, and from their tones—though I was in my bedroom and couldn’t actually hear what they were saying—it was clear that they were reflecting seriously on what it all might mean.

  “So tell me, Braxton,” Pa said as we were talking, “is it just that you want to work for me—is that all there is to this thing? What if I don’t have any work? What if I’m in Sacramento. It ain’t exactly as if I’m an employer?”

  “I’ll do whatever you want me to do,” replied Christopher. “It doesn’t matter. I want to be around you enough to learn from your wisdom. After all, you’re older and more experienced than I am. And you’re Corrie’s father, and so I figure she must have gotten a lot of what makes her the person she is from you.”

  Pa sat there taking it in silently. He wasn’t used to people talking to him about his wisdom.

  “But more than that, sir,” Christopher went on, “I feel that it is very important that you know me as well as a man can know another man. You need to know if I’m capable of providing for your daughter, capable of loving her as I know you would want a husband to love her. I hope and pray you’ll come to believe I’m the man for her. But if I’m not, then I have to trust you to find that out about me, because the very last thing in the world I would want to do is marry Corrie if I’m not the man you and the Lord feel is best for her.”

  Pa and Almeda looked at each other silently. I knew they were impressed with Christopher. And I knew they were taking his request very seriously.

  “Where will you live?” Pa asked finally.

  “Mrs. Gianini’s will suit me just fine.”

  “There is my house in town,” suggested Almeda.

  Pa looked over at her.

  “Hmm,” he muttered thoughtfully. “Doesn’t seem like it’d be fair to give the Duncans notice. They been there—what?—three or four years?”

  “They’ve always talked about buying a place of their own—since the day I rented it to them.”

  “I have no need for something large,” Christopher broke in. “The room at the boardinghouse is perfect.”

  “How’ll you pay for it?” asked Pa, glancing back toward Christopher. “You got money?” I was a little nervous with him being so abrupt. But that was one thing about Pa. He was as straightforward as Christopher was sincere and open about his thoughts and feelings. I supposed that would help them to get to know each other about as quickly as two men could.

  Christopher glanced over at me with a forlorn smile.

  “No . . . unfortunately I don’t, I’m embarrassed to say. But I’ll manage to get by. I’ll pick up other work. After all, if I’m going to provide for your daughter and a family someday, I’ve got to be able to provide for myself now, wouldn’t you say.”

  “Well, I reckon if you’re working for me, I oughta be paying you a decent wage for your time.”

  “Oh no, Mr. Hollister,” said Christopher hurriedly. “I hope I haven’t given you the wrong impression. In no way do I expect to be paid so much as a cent from you. My working for you—and for you, Mrs. Hollister,” he added, glancing over at Almeda, “—that is work I want to do as a member of the family—or at least a member someday. The important thing is that you have the opportunity to know me and observe me and work alongside me. But in no way was I suggesting that there would be any financial obligation on your part. I sincerely apologize if I conveyed such.”

  “Don’t seem right that I don’t pay you something.”

  “I would never suggest this arrangement if I expected pay. That would be highly presumptuous of me. Besides, my pay, if I am found worthy in your estimation, will be the hand of your daughter.”

  Christopher looked over at me with a smile.

  I felt so good and full and content inside to hear him talk so reverently about me to Pa and Almeda. He gave me so much honor and respect that tears sprang to my eyes just thinking about it.

  “You think you can make yourself a living around Miracle Springs and work for us at the same time?” asked Pa.

  “When a strong young man isn’t afraid to work hard,” answered Christopher, “work isn’t hard to find. And I am strong, Mr. Hollister, and I am a hard worker. I may have been to seminary and served as a minister, but I also know how to sweat and put my muscles to the purposes God intended for them. Once word gets around that I am willing and available and will ask for only a fair and modest wage in exchange for my services, I have no doubt I will have more work than I can well use. And my needs are modest enough that I shall have plenty of time to work for my own bread and for you as well.”

  “I see you are confident as well as strong.”

  Christopher laughed.

  “I have been accused of being too confident in myself at times,” he said.

  “Well, don’t apologize for it, son. Too much confidence where it is unfounded has been the undoing of many a man—but a lack of proper confidence keeps many other men from ever making anything of themselves. As long as you stay somewhere in the middle of the two, I reckon you’ll do fine. Anyhow, you’ll do fine by me.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Again Pa sat for a spell, listening and trying to absorb all the practical implications.

  And I sat there feeling safe and protected. Here were three wise individuals, all older than I was, all of whom I loved and who I knew loved me, discussing my future and my welfare. What security! They all wanted only the best for me. I didn’t have to do anything but relax and allow God to speak to them.

  “Corrie and I both want to submit ourselves to your insight and wisdom too, Mrs. Hollister,” Christopher went on, turning to Almeda. “Corrie has often spoken to me of all she has learned from you as she has matured spiritually. She has a deep love and respect for you, and we both hunger to continue to learn from you as well as your husband.”

  “Thank you, Christopher,” said Almeda. “You are very kind, and I appreciate what you say.”

  “I agree with everything he said,” I added. “I hope you know, Almeda, how big a help you have been to me through the years.”

  “Thank you, Corrie,” she said with a smile. “Yes, I think I do know. We have both meant a great deal to each other. The Lord has been very good to us, hasn’t he?”

  I nodded.

  Gradually the conversation turned toward the specifics of what we would actually do, though both Pa and Christopher agreed that figuring it out would no doubt take some time. Pa said again that he didn’t know exactly what he could keep Christopher doing. Christopher suggested that Pa think of projects he’d like done that he’d been too busy for. Pa said it sounded like a good enough idea. I thought maybe he could learn the Supply Company business too, and Almeda agreed to that.

  Bright and early Monday morning Christopher appeared at our place, riding the horse Zack had lent him. By the time we were all up and about, Pa discovered him out in the barn cleaning out some of the stalls and generally tidying the place up.

  I don’t think at first Pa had realized how much work experience Christopher had had. I’d told him about Mrs. Timms’ farm and how Christopher took care of everything for her. But I’m not sure it had all sunk in. The fact that Christopher was from the East, that he was from near a big city like Richmond, and that he had been a minister by profession—I think all that still said to Pa that he was mostly a city man who didn’t know how to get his hands dirty.

  But by the end of that first day, though, Pa was finding out just what a hard and capable worker Christopher B
raxton was.

  And I couldn’t help being proud whenever I’d see that Pa was pleased with something Christopher had done!

  Chapter 29

  The New Corral and Barn

  I wanted that Christmas to be the biggest and most festive one imaginable. Not only was Christopher here, it was also my first Christmas home in two years!

  Two weeks before Christmas, Christopher and Tad and I rode up into the hills to cut a Christmas tree. We all spent the next week decorating it, stringing popcorn and berries, and hanging whatever else we could think of on it.

  Then Becky and Almeda and I started cooking. If Christopher had lost any weight from the second half of his trip west—which I couldn’t notice—Christmas was bound to fatten him up good!

  All week we baked breads and pies and cookies and tarts and puddings. And early on Christmas Eve we killed the turkey and plucked him and boiled the rice and cut up bread and vegetables for the stuffing.

  And through the whole time there were secrets and whisperings and all kinds of goings-on about what people were buying and making for each other. Christopher had to ask me twice more to borrow money!

  He had, like he’d said, already found work. Word in Miracle Springs traveled fast, and even without Gertrude Sinclair’s efforts, before that week was out, most of the men around knew Christopher was available. He had helped Mr. Douglas build a new fence around his pasture, and Mr. Bosely at the General Store had hired him to put a fresh coat of paint on the walls of his storeroom. But as yet he was only making enough money to pay his tab at the boardinghouse—that’s why he had to borrow money from me for Christmas. I couldn’t help laughing to myself at the thought of lending Christopher money to buy me a present for Christmas—if indeed that’s what he was doing!

  Christopher was at the house every day when he wasn’t working for somebody else. He stayed so busy that I wasn’t able to spend as much time just talking with him as I might have wished, but it was wonderful just to have him nearby.