To Walk In Sunshine

by Sally Laity

  ❧

  Not even the gathering clouds could darken the day when Rosalind came into view; she was breathtaking in her violet skirt and an ivory blouse embroidered with purple. Ken stood to his feet by the log and waved, and she smiled and returned the gesture.

  “I wondered if you would come today,” he said in all honesty. He glanced apprehensively at the sky.

  “Do not worry, it will not rain for awhile,” she said. “Grandmother is always right about such things. But I cannot stay long.”

  “Have time for a walk?”

  “A short one, maybe.”

  “Good.” Ken offered a hand, and when she placed hers in it, he schooled himself not to clutch too tightly, to keep things light. “There’s something I wanted to show you.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll see.” They walked side by side through the trees and undergrowth until they came to another trail. Obviously less traveled, the ferns and brush had begun to grow over it in places, but it was still quite passable and meandered away from Ken’s haven. With his free arm, he pushed tree branches aside so they could pass.

  “Where are you taking me?” Rosa asked. She seemed puzzled, but her beautiful eyes showed only trust.

  “To another nice spot. It’s not much farther.”

  Gradually the dense forest growth became thinner, and a short time later they emerged into a tiny clearing ringed on three sides by trees. A huge granite formation jutted up from the ground, and a few feet in front of it, the forest floor fell away in a steep drop.

  “There’s an unbelievable view from the top of the rock,” Ken said. Letting go of Rosalind’s hand, he climbed up first, then reached down to help her.

  “Are you sure of this?” she asked.

  “Of course. Come on, I’ll help you. See for yourself.”

  Frowning slightly, she again took hold of his hand and he tugged her up to the flat, smooth brim, amazed at how featherlight she was.

  Ken grinned as she beheld a panoramic view of Edwardsville, the mine, and beyond, to Kingston and Wilkes-Barre, where the tranquil Susquehanna River glistened in all its splendor. Despite the cloudy sky, the rolling hills on the opposite side of the valley provided a gorgeous backdrop.

  “Ohh,” she breathed. “How beautiful.”

  “Yes, but that’s not all.” Hopping down, he raised his arms up to assist her. His breath stopped as she leaned into his hands, her slender waist in his grasp. She smelled of wildflowers and mountainsides, and as she raised her lashes to meet his gaze, he had to force himself to let go.

  He cleared his throat. “Here’s the best part.” Capturing her hand once again, he led her to an almost undetectable, narrow path that curved around the base to the front of the rock formation, where a small cave, entirely hidden from view on either side, cut into the hillside. “I got caught in a downpour out here once and found this place by accident. I don’t think anybody else even knows it’s here.”

  For the briefest of moments, apprehension widened her eyes, and Ken sensed her uneasiness about being here alone with him, so far from everyone. He immediately reassured her. “Don’t be afraid, Rosa. I would never do anything to harm you.”

  She let out a slow breath and relaxed as she glanced around the interior, green and soft with moss. “It is wonderful,” she murmured, her eyes shining.

  “I just wanted to show it to you. I thought you might like it.”

  Her rosy lips spread into a tremulous smile—and they were so close as she gazed up at him. So close.

  Inhaling a ragged breath, Ken grazed the curve of her fine cheekbone with the back of his finger. “There are lots of other incredible places around here. I’d like to take you to all of them.”

  “I—”

  “Yes, I know. We’ll have to wait for another time. I’ll take you back now.”

  Neither of them spoke for several minutes as they began the return trip. Finally Rosalind turned to him.

  “You are so different. I have never known anyone like you.”

  “Nor I you,” he replied, smiling gently.

  “With my people, a woman is property. A possession. She must do always as her husband tells her. But you make me feel special, not like that.”

  “Because you are special, Rosalind. I knew that the first moment I saw you.”

  She favored him with a shy smile. “How is it with your people? I mean, when a man and a woman marry. Does the wife become her husband’s servant, his possession?”

  “No. Not at all. We believe that God created men and women as equals, but that He assigned them different roles. The Bible says man has the responsibility of being the head of the household, but he is to love and cherish his wife. A wife who knows she is loved by her husband submits to his authority voluntarily, not because she is forced to do so. And together, as they serve and obey God, they receive His blessing.”

  “I have been reading the Bible you gave me, but I have not yet come to that part. I would like to read it for myself.”

  “You’ll find it in the Book of Ephesians, chapter 5, I believe. It’s not hard to understand.”

  “This is new to me, being considered equal to a man. I will have to think about it.”

  “I come across lots of interesting things to think about when I read the Bible,” he said. “I’m sure you will, too.”

  Noticing the thicket up ahead, Ken brought Rosa’s hand to his lips and kissed it. “I will leave you now. Take care. ’Til next time. . . .”

  “ ’Til next time.” Stretching to tiptoe, she brushed his cheek with a kiss, then hurried away.

  A possession, he thought. How could any man treat someone so beautiful and sensitive as a servant? No wonder I can see no evidence of joy in her eyes.

  His heart sent another prayer aloft that one day Rosalind would know true joy. And deep, abiding love.

  Eight

  The storm clouds that had been building all that day let loose as the family gathered around the supper table.

  “Aw, fiddlesticks,” Tim muttered. “Rain. Now we won’t get to go to Kirby Park an’ see the Fourth of July fireworks.”

  “I think we’ll live through it, Runt,” Ken cajoled. The family always looked forward to the annual event held at the Kingston Armory, but somehow the disappointment seemed of little importance today. Claiming his chair, he silently thanked God for the time he’d spent with Rosalind.

  Before their paths had crossed, a rainy Saturday meant only that he wouldn’t be able to hike up the mountain. Now, wet weather shut out the possibility of seeing her, visiting with her. He wasn’t sure exactly when he’d started counting on her presence and eagerly looking forward to the next encounter. But somewhere along the way, the enchanting gypsy had danced right into his heart, making Saturday the high point of his week.

  “Would you ask the blessing tonight, Timmy?” Ma asked, her voice drawing Ken back to the present.

  Trying unsuccessfully to focus on the prayer, he heard scarcely more than a few words before the kid uttered the amen. He gave himself a mental shake.

  Accepting the platter of fried chicken that Hannah passed his way, he noticed something different about her. Very different. Heightened color on her cheeks, a smile that wouldn’t quit, shining eyes. She must have had an unusually good day housecleaning! “So, Hannah,” he probed. “How was your day?”

  She rested her forearm on the table, fork in hand. “Quite good. The MacNamaras gave me a nice bonus for what they termed ‘exceptional work.’ I think they were afraid I’d quit on them and they’d have to train a new girl in my place.”

  “I would imagine it’s hard to find loyal, trustworthy help these days,” their mother said. “Everybody’s looking for greener pastures elsewhere.”

  “Well, I enjoy working for them,” Hannah replied. “Mrs. MacNamara does like things done a particular way, but she isn’t fussy and hard to please, like Mrs. Hughes often is.”

  “Is that the reason you kinda. . .glow?” Ken quizzed in brotherly
candor. “Or is there somebody else in that house who finds you pleasing?” He took a healthy bite of his drumstick.

  She stopped chewing and swallowed as a full-fledged blush beautified her delicate features. “Well, actually, now that you mention it. . .” She switched her attention to her mother. “Ma, David MacNamara would like to meet you all. I’ve. . .invited him to Sunday dinner next week.”

  “What?” she gasped. “Here?” In sharp contrast to Hannah’s rosy flush, her own complexion paled to chalky white. “A MacNamara from that fine estate in Wilkes-Barre, having dinner in a coal patch house?” She swept a frantic gaze of disbelief over the plain, almost stark, furnishings of the dining room. “That’s out of the question. Completely out of the question.”

  “Oh, Ma,” she pleaded. “David is really very nice. He isn’t concerned with material things—”

  “And why should he be,” she countered, “when he has all the material advantages a person could ever hope for?”

  Ken, taking a sip of hot coffee, had yet to get past the “David” part. In his mind, he’d envisioned Hannah almost curtsying before her employers, eyes downcast, murmuring, “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.” When had things progressed to first-name basis with the son and heir? And for that matter, moved beyond even that, to a social occasion? Idly, he glanced at Tim, whose face bore a complete lack of concern while he reached for the bowl of mashed potatoes.

  But Hannah managed to retain her composure, her coloring having returned to its more natural state. “I knew it would take awhile for you to get used to the idea, or I’d have invited him for tomorrow.”

  Completely ruffled by that announcement, Ma shoved her barely touched meal away and sat back against her chair, arms folded. “And what do you suggest we serve His Highness? I’m afraid pheasant season ended a few months ago, to say nothing of what any of us might wear in his presence.”

  “David doesn’t care what we serve,” she replied evenly. “In fact, his favorite dish is chicken and dumplings, same as Ken’s. And if it mattered to him how we dressed, I’m sure he’d have chosen to have dinner with a flapper from his social circle. In the time I’ve grown to know him, I’ve realized he’s the opposite of how we view wealthy folks. It’s not his fault his parents have money, and if we judge others by that rule, we are the snobs, not them. David is a committed Christian, one who has a real heart for God, a desire to help others.”

  “Oh,” Ma grated, her tone flat. “So we’re a charity case then, is that it?”

  Hannah sighed and looked to Ken in frustration.

  Straightening in his seat, he cleared his throat. “What do you say we give the guy the benefit of the doubt, Ma? What’s one meal? We can all brush up on our Sunday manners so we don’t act like a bunch of clodhoppers. Then if he doesn’t approve of us, he’ll probably go his way and leave us to go ours.” He shot a small grin of encouragement to his sister.

  “I sure wouldn’t mind more chicken and dumplin’s,” Timmy added. “ ’Specially if there’s chocolate cake to go with ’em.”

  The heavy breath Ma emitted revealed her gradual acceptance of a matter already beyond her control. She drew her plate toward herself and picked at the cold food with her fork. “Well, I suppose the lace tablecloth will do, if I mend the tear in the edge and turn it to the good side.”

  Hannah’s beautiful smile put dazzling rainbows in her eyes. “Thank you, Ma. You’ll love David, I just know it.”

  As you do? Ken wondered. He’d figured a day like this would come sooner or later. Whatever else might be said about David MacNamara, one had to admire his taste in women. Hannah would be a prize catch for any man—assuming this guy wasn’t merely toying with her affection. Next Sunday would provide a great opportunity to check him out.

  Ma’s apple pie, still warm from the oven, rounded out the meal. Surprisingly little chatter took place during dessert, however. Ken could almost see the wheels turning inside his mother’s head, already planning the Big Event a week away. Hannah’s secret smile revealed pleasure and anticipation, while nothing fazed their kid brother, wolfing down whatever food was placed before him.

  Mulling over his ma’s reaction to entertaining someone from the wealthy side of the tracks, Ken could only wonder what she would say when he invited Rosa to come for supper.

  ❧

  No one spoke as the cage creaked its way to the top. By the end of a shift, all the jokes had already been cracked, the small talk exhausted, and weary men wanted nothing more than to shower and get home for supper. Lunch pails in hand, the dustblackened group stepped clear and headed for the shiftin’ shack.

  Just then, an ominous explosion came from below.

  The men stopped en masse and turned, their hearts in their throats as they waited for news of what had happened and where. No one speculated, no one uttered a sound as they gravitated back to the shaft they’d just exited and joined other groups of grave-faced miners already clustering there.

  Soon enough, word reached the surface from the bottom men manning the shaft in which the mine cars ascended and descended. A cave-in on level three. Eleven miners trapped.

  At once, the huge steam whistle sounded the alarm—heart-stopping blasts that would draw family and neighbors to the mine to wait helplessly until they learned the fate of their loved ones.

  In the desperate frenzy that followed, Ken ran to the shiftin’ shack and snatched a white helmet from one of the hooks. Then he dropped to his knees and pleaded for the lives of the men below and the welfare of those whose job now lay in rescue and recovery. He knew his mother and Hannah would be frantic, not knowing if he was all right or had met the same fate as his pa; but as a member of the safety team, his main concern now was seeing to the trapped men. He rose and surged forward with other white-helmeted rescuers waiting their turn to go down to help.

  Below, they found the amount of fallen rock, shale, and crushed timbers blocking the gangway staggering. But the work-weary men labored tirelessly to save their fellow laborers, knowing that time was of the essence and that one day others might have to do the same for them. High-powered fans aboveground sent increased air through the ventilation shaft to aid the safety team in their grim task.

  ❧

  Rosalind and her grandfather had just pulled into the encampment after having made his rounds when the alarm at the mine shattered the stillness. He sent a curious glance in that direction but wasn’t too concerned. “I see to horses,” he said, stopping at the house while she hopped down.

  “I’ll see if there are any berries left up on the mountain for dessert,” Rosa offered. Without taking time to grab a basket, much less determine Nicholas Habib’s whereabouts, she grasped her skirt in either hand and darted up the hill.

  She passed right on by Ken’s special thicket, winded and gasping for air as she sought the path they’d taken yesterday.

  Thankfully, she found the route easy enough to follow; and when she came to a fork in the trail, she bit her lip and chose the one to the right. It brought her to the granite formation he’d shown her. She scrambled up to the top, her chest heaving, and peered down at Hudson Coal Company.

  Something horrible must have happened. Hordes of blackened miners milled about the dreary structures like so many ants. But picking Ken Roberts out of a mob of dust-covered miners was impossible. Even if she went down there and stood on the sidelines, she couldn’t be sure she’d find him.

  Sinking to her knees on the rocky surface, she clasped her hands together and squeezed her eyes shut. “Dear God in heaven, Ken told me You are his friend. If that is true, please watch over him. I don’t know what has happened at the mine or if he was involved. But he trusts You. Please, please, make it turn out right.” Not knowing what else to ask or if she’d said the proper words, Rosa gave a last look below and started for home. Never had she felt more helpless in her life.

  ❧

  Additional members of the safety team descended periodically to relieve those below; and as each one reached the poi
nt where he could do no more, he would go above and find hot coffee and the tears of relief from waiting loved ones. By the time Ken reached his limit and came up top, he could hardly utter his name to the men who helped him exit the cage. Daylight had all but faded, but floodlights provided circles of illumination for the families and others standing vigil. As his name was announced, a small cry issued from the crowd, and his dear ones flew to his side.

  “Thank the Lord, you’re alive,” Ma breathed, hugging him so hard he could scarcely draw breath.

  “Hey, I’m a little dirty,” he said in an attempt to lighten the moment. Hannah cried openly, the tears coursing down her face, while Tim, still filthy from the breaker, thumped his back for all he was worth.

  Someone handed him a cup of coffee. “Go home and get some rest, Roberts. Likely we’ll need you again in the morning.”

  Too tired to protest, almost too tired even to pray again for the victims, Ken leaned heavily on his kid brother, who looped an arm around him and began leading him toward home. He didn’t want to think about how much more digging needed to be done—or that not even so much as a rapping had come from the other side. Thankfully, his family knew better than to ask him any questions just yet.

  Ken awakened before daylight, still bone weary, but eager to get back to the mine. He dressed as quietly as possible without disturbing Tim, who would be up soon enough himself. Even with underground work suspended temporarily, the breaker would still be in operation. Heaven forbid the coal company should lose a nickel merely because a few workers got trapped or killed.

  Forcing aside the caustic thoughts, he tiptoed downstairs, where Ma had hot coffee and breakfast already waiting. He worked up a smile.

  She merely squeezed his shoulder while she filled his cup, but after she dished up his pork chops and eggs, she bent to hug him without a word. The hot meal fortified him for the day that lay ahead. That and prayer.