by Ann Shorey
When he stepped into the kitchen, Maria hurried over to him, a broom in her hands. She wore a ruffled cap over her blonde hair the way Ellie did when she cleaned house. “Are you done working outside? Will you tell me a story?”
Floorboards creaked overhead. Ellie was probably busy shining furniture, a Friday chore. “Didn’t your mama tell you to sweep the kitchen?”
“Well, yes.”
He smiled at her. “I’m going to rest on the divan for a short while. When you finish, come on in and we’ll have a story time.”
Maria’s face shone. “I’ll hurry.”
On Sunday, Matthew woke before sunrise. Dull pewter light sifted through the parlor windows. As consciousness returned, it brought nervous clenching to his stomach. He felt the palms of his hands moisten as he considered his plans for the day. Father, please be with me. This is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
He pushed himself to a sitting position and listened, thinking he heard a sound in the kitchen. When it repeated, he realized Ellie was up and busy with breakfast
He’d found her surprisingly amenable the previous evening when he told her of his plans. Now that he considered it, she’d been less argumentative ever since they returned from Molly’s on Thursday. Maybe she was starting to see things his way.
Matthew stood, intending to go upstairs and put on his church clothes. When he opened the parlor door, Ellie came down the hall toward him, a concerned frown wrinkling her forehead.
“You don’t have to do it.” She rested her hand lightly on his arm. “What are you hoping to accomplish?”
He ran his fingers through his sleep-spiked hair. “I’m not sure, but I know it’s the right thing. I can’t leave otherwise.”
Ellie slid her hand away. “Then you’d better get ready if you still intend to arrive early.” She stepped aside so he could pass. “Breakfast will be waiting when you come downstairs.”
By the time he arrived at the table, the twins were up and had clattered into the kitchen. “We want to go with you.” Fully dressed, Johnny stood beside his father’s chair.
“We can help,” Jimmy added.
Matthew shook his head. “I’m riding Samson. You wait for Uncle Arthur to bring you in the buggy.” He speared a griddle cake from the platter in the center of the table and dropped it onto his plate. His stomach rebelled at the prospect of food, but he knew he needed to eat.
“You boys haven’t washed or combed your hair,” Ellie said from the other side of the room. “Go finish cleaning up, then wake Harrison and Maria.” When they left, she picked up the platter and carried it back to the stove. “Want some ham?”
“No, this was plenty.” Matthew scraped his chair away from the table, leaving his meal half eaten. “It’s time to go.”
Ellie wiped her hands on her apron. “We’ll be there in another hour.” She opened her mouth to say something else, then apparently changed her mind.
He wished he knew what lay behind the expression in her eyes. Support? Or pity?
Coolness hung in the air as Matthew pushed open the doors of the church. He wanted time to walk through the building and memorize its details while he was alone. His footsteps echoed on the wooden floor when he moved down the center aisle and stepped onto the platform in front. Sunlight from east-facing windows made the well-worn pulpit gleam. He laid his Bible down, opening it to the passage he’d selected for his farewell message. Again the palms of his hands moistened. He’d put out no announcement. No one in the community knew he’d be there that day.
“I heard you were back. Going to try it again, are you?” Marcus Beldon strode up the aisle.
Matthew’s heart drummed in his throat. “It’s still my church.” Leaving the platform, he faced his adversary.
Beldon pulled his jacket open, throwing out his chest and tucking his hands in his pants pockets. He rocked back on his heels, looking at Matthew with one eyebrow raised. The gold watch chain across his waistcoat glistened in the light. “That’s not the story that’s going around. Word is you’re headed south to be an itinerant preacher.”
Matthew retreated a step. Standing next to the immaculately groomed Beldon never failed to make him feel like a bumpkin. “I’m going to be riding circuit, yes. But I think I owe it to the people here to say a proper farewell before leaving.”
“Very commendable. And don’t worry about this church. I’ll see it goes on.” Beldon clapped him on his right shoulder.
Matthew gritted his teeth to hide the pain that shot down his side. “It’s not up to you, is it? You can’t just take over the pulpit of a church without an appointment from the elders.”
Beldon narrowed his eyes. “I have a divinity degree from Harvard College. Once you’re gone, I’ll present myself to whoever’s in charge over in Quincy. They’ll jump at the chance to get a man with my qualifications.”
At the sound of voices, both men looked toward the back of the church. Several townsfolk entered together. When they saw Beldon standing with Matthew they stopped, apparently confused.
Beldon hurried toward them. “Come in, come in! The good reverend and I were just discussing the sermon.”
Matthew pinched his lips to keep from being provoked into a public argument. Instead, he returned to the pulpit and closed his Bible. He’d speak what was in his heart.
Gradually, the church filled with people, more than Matthew had seen there in months. Many of them looked at him and then seemed to search out Beldon for assurance. But others hurried forward, welcoming him. When Arthur led Ellie and the children to their accustomed spot on the front bench, he noted worry lines around his wife’s eyes.
Matthew surveyed the congregation, heart swollen with sadness at the thought of leaving.
He held up his hand to silence the buzz of conversation in the room. “Let’s seek the Lord’s presence.”
Using the side of the pulpit for support, he lowered himself to his knees and offered a fervent prayer asking the Lord to guide not only his words but the ears and hearts of his listeners.
When Matthew stood, he rested his hand on his worn leather-covered Bible, its pebbled surface a comfort. “Today’s service isn’t going to be what you expected. I know most of you are surprised to see me here. Some of you heard I was leaving. Some of you thought I’d already left.” Taking as deep a breath as his ribs would permit, Matthew continued. “Two weeks ago I went to Quincy and resigned as pastor of this church.”
A collective gasp sucked air from the room.
He focused his gaze on the people that he knew had supported him—Ben and Charity, Molly and Karl, a few neighbors and friends from various homes in the community. “But I couldn’t leave without saying good-bye.”
Startled murmurs reached his ears. “It’s true then.”
“He’s going.”
A voice called, “Don’t leave, Reverend. We want you here.”
Matthew tried to see who’d said it, but couldn’t be certain. In the back of the room, Beldon sat with his arms folded across his chest, face unreadable.
Matthew swallowed. Lord, this is harder than I expected. Help me find the right words. “There’s been too much dissension here for me to feel useful to you. Some of it’s been my fault. I made far too large an issue over the performers in Macbeth, even though one of them did end up bringing upheaval to my family.” He glanced at Beldon and his covey of supporters. “Other whispers have reached my ears. I won’t give them credence by repeating them now.” In the front row, Ellie sat with her head down, shoulders bowed.
Matthew’s eyes filled with tears and he blinked them away. “I’ll be leaving soon for Adams Station, the first stop on my circuit. God bless you all. I pray you will put your differences aside and work to make this a united church body. Outsiders look at us quarreling among ourselves and see no reason to convert to Christianity. Let that not be so in Beldon Grove.”
Heart pounding, he left the platform and walked to the rear of the church. Hands reached out to touch him as he went pa
st. To Matthew’s surprise, one of the hands belonged to Zilphah Beldon.
She gripped his coat sleeve with her twisted fingers. “You’re making a mistake, Reverend,” she whispered. “Don’t go.”
19
Ellie stood under the clothesline watching the twins at work in the hayfield. Johnny took the lead, bending at the waist and swinging his scythe, dropping hay onto the ground in a wide swath. Jimmy followed with his own blade, a dozen feet behind and to one side. Slowly they worked their way across the first acre. They weren’t able to cut as big a swath as Matthew did, so it would take them longer to finish. She scanned the few wispy clouds trailing overhead, praying they wouldn’t get caught by a thunderstorm while the hay was down.
She realized she’d been standing motionless, observing, while the wet garment she held in her hand dripped onto her apron. Quickly, she pegged it to the line.
Harrison ran between rows of hanging laundry and planted himself in front of her. “We’re ready to go. I came to say goodbye.”
Ellie’s heart turned over at the sight of her younger son’s freckled face shining up at her. She reached out and pushed his springy dark hair out of his eyes. He looked so much like Matthew. Her hand slid from his forehead to his shoulder and then she clasped him to her in a fierce hug. “I’ll miss you so much. You be a good help to Uncle Arthur, now, you hear?”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and held on for a moment, then backed away. “Uncle says he has lots of work for a strong boy like me.”
“I don’t doubt it, Son.”
“And maybe he’ll teach me to play his fiddle. He says he learned when he was my age.”
Ellie followed the eager boy to the buggy where Uncle Arthur waited. Wooden clothes pegs in her apron clicked together as she walked, sounding like she had a pocket full of crickets. Matthew stood there giving Arthur last-minute instructions.
“Did you get the hamper I packed for your supper?” Ellie asked.
“Right here.” Arthur pointed behind him.
She stood on tiptoe to look into the back. “Where are your things, Harrison? I don’t see your box.”
“It’s under the seat.” He climbed up next to Uncle Arthur.
Ellie glanced between Matthew and their son, trying to think of another question that would keep him near her for a few more moments.
Matthew met her eyes. “He’ll only be a mile away, and Arthur has promised to come by every few days.”
She squeezed her hands together, feeling the cut on her palm that scrubbing and wringing wet clothing had irritated. She forced a smile. “See you soon, then.”
The buggy rumbled over the planks bridging the creek, and rolled off down the road toward the Newberrys’ farm. Dust rose and settled in its wake. Ellie walked to the porch and sank onto the top step, where the overhang from the roof provided shade.
“Ellie?”
She raised her head and looked at her husband.
Matthew waited at the foot of the steps, chin raised in the stubborn gesture she knew so well. “It’ll be good for the boy. He’s often left out of the twin’s activities. You baby him too much.”
Ellie turned her head away and stood. “I need to finish hanging the laundry.”
The bottom step gave slightly when she trod on it, throwing her off balance. Matthew reached out and caught her arm. She held her breath, hoping he’d pull her close and end their estrangement. Instead, they gazed at each other for a silent moment, then he dropped her arm and walked toward the hayfield.
“I need you to look at this,” Matthew said from his seat at the kitchen table, a large book open before him. The twins had dragged themselves to bed soon after they ate supper, and once Maria finished helping her mother with the dishes, she too climbed the stairs to her bedroom.
Ellie wiped perspiration from her forehead with a soap-reddened hand, then slid into a chair next to Matthew. She frowned at the colored map on the open page. “Where’d you get this?” She traced a finger over the gilt-edged pages. “It must’ve cost dearly.”
“Ben made me the loan of it. It’s a universal atlas. There’s a map here for every one of the states.” Matthew turned the book around so that Illinois was right side up in Ellie’s vision. “I want to show you where I’ll be while I’m gone.” He indicated a point near the western center of the state. “Here’s Beldon Grove.” His finger moved toward the bottom of the page. “This is Adams Station. Southeast a ways you see Tylerville.” Matthew’s hand traveled, tracing an invisible line. “From Tylerville, I swing north to Arcadia Mills, then back home.”
“That’s half the state.” She lifted her head and studied his face. “How can you cover that much ground when you can barely saddle your horse without help?”
He ignored her question, jabbing a finger at Adams Station. “I’m reckoning a week for each stop, including travel, should have me back here in a month or so.”
But then he’d just turn around and leave again. The strain of Matthew’s imminent departure, coupled with the end of a fatiguing day, brought quick tears to Ellie’s eyes. She looked down at her palm, absently fingering the cut across the base of her thumb. “You’re leaving me to take care of this farm with two half-grown boys and a little girl.”
“Arthur will be here every few days. He’ll take you to town whenever you need anything.” Matthew stood, slapping the atlas shut with one hand. “My saddlebags are packed and ready. I’ll be off at first light.” He moved down the hall toward the parlor.
Ellie sat at the table after he left, watching light patterns cast by the oil lamp jump over the tabletop. Moths crashed against the glass chimney. They fluttered away, then flew back to the lamp and crashed again. She could see herself in their frantic actions, pounding away at Matthew to stay in Beldon Grove, but never getting past the glass wall that surrounded his decision.
Ellie stood and extinguished the light. “Get on with your lives,” she said to her fuzzy-winged companions. “You’ll never get through the glass, and you’ll only hurt yourselves trying.”
Ellie passed the first two days after Matthew’s departure following her accustomed routine. She spent most of her time on housework, with Maria’s help, while Jimmy and Johnny trudged out to cut hay. The skies remained clear, but the ever-present fear of rain while the hay was down added a sense of urgency to their task.
Thursday noon when the boys dragged in for dinner, they were sweating, sunburned, and exhausted. Ellie watched as they devoured the fried ham and boiled beans she’d prepared. By the time they started on the dried-apple pie, she’d made a decision.
She removed her apron and threw it over a chair. “I’m coming out with you. Maria and I can turn the hay over while you cut.”
Her sons stared at her as if she’d announced she was going to shoe their team of draft horses. “You don’t know how to rake hay.” Jimmy’s adolescent voice squeaked in protest.
“Then you’ll show me. Get your sunbonnet, Maria. No one’s going to see the inside of this house but us, so who cares if we clean it or not.”
Her children gaped at her while she tied her skirt in a knot above her ankles and looped her bonnet strings under her chin. When Ellie strode to the barn to get a rake, the twins hurried past her to open the heavy door. Once she and Maria were equipped, the boys walked with them to the edge of the field. Stubble crunched beneath their boots as they approached the first sweet-smelling swaths of cut grass.
Jimmy took one of the rakes and let it drop as far out as the handle would reach so that the curved tines fell into the drying hay. “Let the weight of the rake do the work,” he said, clearly proud to have something he could teach his mother. “Drop it over the hay like this, then drag it toward you. It should turn up for drying while you pull.” He demonstrated. “Then do it again. Make nice rows.” Grinning, he offered Ellie the wooden rake. “Now you try it.”
After a bumbling start, she felt the rhythm of the work. “Thank you, Son. I’ll help Maria while you get back to cutting.”
By the end of the day, blisters had formed across her palms and the cut at the base of her thumb threatened to break open. Ellie’d never felt so tired. At the same time, she’d never felt such a sense of accomplishment.
She looked down at Maria, who struggled beside her. “Time to stop for supper.”
Her daughter dropped her rake and leaned against Ellie’s side. “Look at all we did, Mama.”
The pride in her young voice echoed Ellie’s emotions. Rows of hay stretched behind them, fluffed and golden.
“I’m proud of you. You did grown-up work today.”
In truth, Ellie had manipulated her own rake so Maria only had to turn small amounts at a time. Nevertheless, she had done a heroic job merely to stay at the task in the sun all afternoon.
Ellie turned to where Jimmy and Johnny worked, and whistled to get their attention. “Suppertime,” she called when they looked her way.
Maria’s blue eyes grew round. “I didn’t know you could whistle.”
“I’d forgotten I even knew how. Uncle Arthur taught me, but he wouldn’t let me do it around Aunt Ruby.” Ellie chuckled at the memory. “It’s unladylike, you know.”
“Would you teach me?”
She picked up her daughter’s grubby hand and kissed the blistered palm. “Of course. We’ll practice tomorrow while we rake.”
Early Saturday evening, Ellie glanced out the open kitchen window and noticed dumpling-shaped clouds bobbing on the western horizon. A breeze fluttered the red gingham curtains, ushering the promise of rain into the room. Not now! The hay’s still down. Her mind worked frantically. Tomorrow was Sunday. Matthew never allowed anything to interfere with church attendance, but Matthew wasn’t here. She and her children had accomplished the backbreaking task of cutting the hay, and now she couldn’t let it get soaked before they stored it in the haymow. Moisture would cause it to mildew, which sickened the animals. Or the worst might happen—stacked wet hay could heat and spontaneously burst into flame.
Her children sat at the cleared supper table. Maria’s head drooped with fatigue. The twins both slumped in their chairs, eyes half closed.
