She squared her shoulders as though she were framing Jeb in her sights. Then she reached up, gave the knot a slight jerk to the right, and said, “That’s better. Where are you going?”
“The Mills home. Dinner party.”
“Nice bouquet. I didn’t know flowers were still available this time of year.”
Jeb was about to tell her the flowers were simply a nice gesture for the hostess. But she had stopped smiling, and he enjoyed the way her small brows came together in the cen-ter. “If you’ll excuse me, I don’t want to keep the Millses waiting.”
“Please give Winona my regards.”
“Most assuredly, Fern.”
“Jeb, is— Are—” Fern stumbled over her words.
Jeb kept moving toward his truck as she stammered around for the thing she was trying to utter. Finally she said, “I was wondering if you’d like to come to my place Friday night for dinner.”
“With my new duties, you know my evenings have become so full, Fern. Sometime later, perhaps?” As he reached for the door handle, he suddenly felt his face flush. Regret sometimes turned him red as beets.
Fern nodded, and he left her on the sidewalk stunned as a rabbit. He had stopped short of telling her that he was not learned enough to keep company with a woman as academic as herself. But the sight of her staring after him in his rearview mirror was satisfaction enough.
Amy Mills had invited any couple that had the slightest scent of prestige to her Tuesday-night dinner party. Jeb’s bouquet was whisked away along with other hostess gifts, most of which cost much more than the fifty cents Jeb had squandered on Freda Honeysack’s store flowers.
“Jeb, thank goodness you’re here. The guest list is boring as all get out,” said Winona.
“I’ll make my presence known to your dear mother, Winona. Then, if you’d like, we can retire to the patio.”
“No one’s out there tonight. It’s kind of cold.”
But the way she said it, her eyes connecting with his, made Jeb believe that she warmed to his suggestion. “We can find something to help that, Winona,” he said.
Winona took his arm and they found Amy greeting the wives of the men gathered in the study. The mood in the parlor was festive, celebratory.
Jeb saw Horace and the men grouped in the study—the same bunch he had introduced to Jeb as an investment group. Horace and the investors fired up cigars and patted one another on the back.
“If you’ll excuse me for a moment, Winona, I’d like to have a word with your father.”
“I’ll have Henri light some torches out back. I’ll bring two hot ciders,” she said.
When Jeb entered the study, Horace announced him to the men, and they all gathered around him and slapped his back and shook his hand. “What’s the occasion?” Jeb asked.
“Always the modest one,” said Horace. The men laughed. One of them, a slight man with a thin mustache, said, “You’ve slain the giant, Reverend.”
“With Ace Lumber money pumping through Nazareth, we’ll put this place on the map. This will get all those laid-off men back on the payroll again, give them back their dignity.”
Jeb silently mouthed, I was only the delivery boy. But then he realized he appreciated the accolades of the moneyed. He got a better buzz from it than from mountain hooch. It might take awhile to get used to the awkward feel of undying attention, but for now he let out a sigh and took to it.
“We’d tried everything to get those Hoppers to make a move. Asa was only being stubborn. It took a man of integrity to help those Hoppers see the light.”
Jeb remembered his initial resolve and said, “I wonder, though, why the Hopper land was so important to the deal?” After a silent pause, he said, “There are other places suitable for timber, right? The drought has hit them as hard as anywhere else.”
“But Roosevelt’s New Deal is all about land conservation, as he calls it. Once we replant trees and flood part of the land from the lake next door, we’ll have the perfect place to run lumber and grow a forest. We’ll have the finest forest in the country and government money with which to run it.” Mills tasted the end of his cigar.
“Whose idea was it to grow timber with government money, Mr. Mills?” asked Jeb.
The men all fell silent, each of them turning to gaze at Mills.
“It was Horace, of course.” The man with the mustache spoke up. “He’s the creative genius in the bunch.”
The others laughed and shook the banker’s hand.
“I’m relieved to know that,” said Jeb. Now he had heard the other side of the matter. “Excuse me. I have a cup of cider waiting for me out on the patio.” He needed time to clear his head and compare the stories of a convict with those of a group of respected investors.
Jeb saw Winona’s breath in the lantern light, a white mist floating veil-like around her head. She had draped a fur around her shoulders. Her face broke with gentle relief when she saw Jeb. “Glad you could come.”
Jeb rubbed his hands together. “Maybe inside’s a better idea.”
“It’s stuffy inside. Tell me what you and Daddy talked about.”
“Men things.”
“I’m not one of those women who has to be dismissed when matters turn to business. I worked in Daddy’s bank for three years before going off to school.”
“When did you decide to come home?”
Winona scooted aside and patted the bench next to her. “Join me. Unless you prefer we stand.”
Jeb took a seat. “You’ve another year until you graduate?”
“That and the semester I’ve missed by coming home. I’m the only daughter in the Mills family. I came home to help out my mother. She needs me around sometimes for support.”
“She seems to do well on her own,” said Jeb. He cupped the cider and blew on it.
“It’s a hard thing to be married to Horace Mills. Daddy’s all business and meetings. My mother thinks she has to be the perfect hostess. She gets lonely. I can tell you all that privately, since you’re the minister. You’ve learned how to keep private matters private, I gather, from Reverend Gracie.”
“I plan to go and see him again this week. His daughter expects him to be released soon. But they’re going to move to Cincinnati with his brother right away.”
“How do you really feel about Church in the Dell being handed to you so suddenly? You’re obviously learned and well studied. But to have it dropped in your lap so unexpectedly,” she said, “has to be a jolt.”
Her statement shocked him, considering Fern’s assessment of him in the town library. He warmed to the girl right off. “Gracie trusts me to do the job. If Church in the Dell will be patient with me, we can learn together how best to manage the church duties.”
“Aren’t you lonely?” she asked.
Jeb nodded and gazed back at her, taking well to her interest in him. “I mean, I do have family. My family lives in Texas, mostly. But it’s more than that. The pastorate is like having a window shoved down between yourself and the rest of the world. People look at you differently, especially men. I can’t just go and play a game of pool at Snooker’s. The men all see me as different. Even the banjo I play is frowned on. I guess it will just collect dust up in my attic from now on.”
“You played it here, for me,” she said.
“I was Gracie’s flunky. People can turn a deaf ear when they don’t expect anything of you. But as the pastor, well, some people are still trying to get used to the organ. Banjo picking is straight from the devil—at least according to women like Florence Bernard.”
Winona set aside her cup and said, “May I tell you something?”
Jeb read the candor in her face. He nodded.
“When I was going to State, I fell in love with a professor. I never told Momma or Daddy. They’d be so angry.”
“Angry at you dating a professor? That doesn’t make sense.”
“I told him I loved him. That is when he told me he was married. He broke things off with me. I couldn’t
stand the thought of sitting in his class every day, watching another silly student be lured by his charm. So I came home. That’s why I’m here.”
“You have a brilliant mind, Winona. You can go to any campus in the nation.”
She was enamored of his comment. “That professor . . . he called me stupid.” She looked down, composing herself. “You’re the first man to think I’m brilliant.” Her smile could have lit up the patio. She moved closer to Jeb and allowed her coat to fall open.
Jeb reached up and clasped her neck. He pulled her face toward him and kissed her. Winona wrapped her arms around Jeb and kissed him back. “You know I’ve been hurt.”
Jeb shushed her and they kissed again. Winona extinguished the lantern so that the only overseer of their patio party was the moon. Jeb felt the last traces of Fern slipping from him. It was not as painful as he had imagined.
21
Saturday brought a truck brimming with antique furniture and every earthly good owned by the Gracies to the front walk of the Catholic hospital. As Gracie was wheeled out of the hospital, some of the ladies wept, while most everyone else cheered for the departing minister. Gracie’s face looked ripe for plucking, pink and more full of life than anyone had seen him in the last two weeks. Jeb walked beside Emily, who helped to push her daddy down the long walk to their waiting automobile. His brother, Geoffrey from Cincinnati, had arrived to help see the family all the way home. He ran to Gracie’s car to open the door. His wife, Dolly, would drive the Gracie vehicle while he managed the large truck filled with his brother’s belongings.
Jeb shook Gracie’s hand and then grabbed him in a bear hug. “You’ll be missed. You’re already missed, Reverend,” he told him.
“Don’t worry over me, Jeb. I’m in good hands. You take care of this flock and those children the Lord’s given to you.”
Jeb pulled out the key the older man had given him. “You didn’t tell me how heavy this is to wear.”
“I was afraid you wouldn’t take it.” Gracie took the hands of the ladies as he passed them by. When he glanced back at Jeb, who did not know how to respond, he laughed out loud.
Jeb and Val Rodwyn helped Gracie into his car. As they backed away to allow the girls and Philip to clamber in behind their daddy, Val said, “Will Honeysack asked me to give you this. I almost forgot.” He passed a folded note to Jeb.
Jeb tucked the note into his pocket. “I’m sorry Will and Freda couldn’t come today.”
“He had family in or some such,” said Val. “Will and the missus dropped by earlier in the week to say their good-byes to Reverend Gracie. Can’t say as I blame him. It’s too sad this way.” Val waved at Gracie and the girls and then headed back to his vehicle.
Jeb had helped Gracie’s brother load his belongings from the parsonage. They all had decided it best to get the packing over and done with so they could take Philemon directly from the hospital on to Cincinnati.
Jeb felt a pang of sorrow as the Gracies motored away from St. Joseph’s. He had kept his conversation with Gracie blithe that morning, not wanting to burden a sick man with problems he was leaving behind. He felt the weight of tomorrow’s obligations weighing on him heavier than before.
Angel had come along with him to tell the Gracie children good-bye. She was waiting now for him in the truck. He was glad. On the way home they might have a decent conversation and ease the tension that had been building between them.
“When will we move into the parsonage?” asked Angel. “Not that I’ve been in a hurry for the Gracies to go.” She had as much sincerity in her tone as he had ever heard her use. “Emily is a decent girl. I don’t think I really knew her that well until these last few weeks. She’s not a fake at all, like I thought.” She fell silent for a minute or two and then said, “It’s sad to see them go.”
“How about Monday? The old Long house is too cold to stay in much past that.”
Angel let out a sigh, relieved more than she’d been willing to admit. “A real kitchen again and a good bed.”
“Best I load up on some coal.”
Her eyes followed a diner they passed along the way and a sign that said, “This way to Bathhouse Row.” Then she said, “I got a letter from Aunt Kate. I figured Willie probably told you.”
“Good news about your momma, I hope.”
“Same as always. Good day and then a bad day.”
“I think one of these days your momma’s going to sit up in that bed and climb out ready to be her old self again. Next thing you know, she’ll be bossing everybody around, same as you.”
She seemed cheered up by his words. “I can say one thing—I’m glad not to be living in an attic with Effie and her screaming kid.”
“Me too. I’d not have anyone to fight with.”
“Oh, you and me will fight again. You’re dating that lunatic from the bank’s daughter.”
Jeb had taken Winona to Beulah’s the night before and come home smelling like perfume. Angel had noticed it right off. “How nice is that?”
“Something’s not right about her. I don’t know. Can’t put my finger on it. You know she ain’t got Fern Coulter’s brains.”
“Winona’s a smart girl. College educated and better at math than anyone I know.”
“She’s got you figured out, that I know. When she saw you coming, she took one look and knew all it would take was a wiggle of that figure of hers and you’d be slobberin’ like a hound.”
“Let’s change the subject.”
The sun took one last breath and gentled behind the silvering hills.
“It’s getting dark,” said Angel. She shivered.
“Good thing. I can’t wait for a little peace and quiet. This preacher business takes the wind out of you.” He hadn’t had a full night’s sleep in the last two weeks.
“It’ll be quiet. Sundays is good for quiet.”
At dawn, Jeb pulled out his best white shirt, laid it across his bed, and picked up his sermon notes to study. The last hour before Sunday breakfast had become sacred, a time of shedding off what remained of the week so that he could stand clean as bleached cotton before the congregation.
As he returned to his bed, he lifted yesterday’s shirt from the chair where he had undressed the night before. Beneath it on the floor laid the folded note from Val. He had forgotten to read it. He carried it with him back to the bed and read it as he leaned back against the feather pillow. Then he sat up. He reread the note, but found it just as mysterious as the first reading. It was not signed by Will Honeysack. Truth be told, he did not recognize the scratched signature at the bottom of the note that looked like “Red,” or perhaps “Fred.” The note read:
Dropped by address on delivery. No one about. Left delivery inside.
Red
Jeb pulled on his socks and padded into the parlor. After looking around the room, he saw no package or parcel. He could not remember ordering anything from Honeysack’s store. He shrugged and decided he would ask Will about the note before the morning’s message.
He dressed early, drank coffee, and then pulled on his coat. As of next week, when they moved back into the parsonage, he would be only a rock’s throw from the church. Like Angel, he had to admit that the move back to the comfortable house behind the church would be a relief.
He woke her up. “I’m driving early to the church. You all ride in with Miss Coulter and don’t give her any lip.”
Angel moaned and then lifted her head. “I’m going, Jeb. Don’t be so bossy. I hope you made coffee. I feel like the dickens.”
“Don’t fall back to sleep,” he told her. He left and went outside to warm up the truck.
The water flowed green and cold under Marvelous Crossing Bridge. He drove behind the chapel and parked in front of the parsonage to leave more room for the new parishioners. The parsonage was dark and had a lonely look about it with the Gracies gone.
A sound caught his ear. He looked up, expecting to see perhaps a flock of geese winging overhead. But this was a murmur
ing sound, a rising and falling commotion that couldn’t be caused by geese. He waited and heard it again. The sound was coming from inside the church.
He stamped his boots on the rear porch steps before turning the knob and opening the door to the sanctuary. A sudden flapping and clucking caused him to freeze. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Perched along and under the pews of Church in the Dell were two hundred white pullets. The smell from an evening of that many chickens roosting indoors had Jeb covering his nose with his coatsleeve. He coughed, ran out for fresh air, and then staggered back to the doorway to survey the mess.
“What idiot would do this?” He was completely at a loss. It had to be a joke gone awry. Not knowing what else to do, he began chasing the chickens away from the lectern and the altar. But as he herded them down the aisle, more of the feathered creatures flapped around him, hopped, and skidded onto the platform. The noise was deafening.
Every pew was ornamented with feathers and overnight roostings. Jeb checked his watch. Only an hour until the service started.
That is when he remembered the note from Will Honeysack and his nephew Herschel’s delivery of chicks. He yanked it out and read it again. Somebody had messed up the delivery instructions. And over the last month, Herschel’s postponed shipment of chicks had grown into pullets.
Jeb slumped down onto a pew. Soon half the town would be filing in under the tolling church bell. The church bell? He groaned. He had completely forgotten about the bell. He had not had time to think about finding and purchasing a new one. Of course, it was a slight matter compared to the mess he had walked into this morning.
“Tarnation!” he yelled.
The pullets scattered.
Think! Think! He could open the doors and send the pullets out into the freezing cold of morning. But after chasing the young hens out of doors, he’d still have to clean up the parting love gifts left him overnight—in less than an hour. And the birds would surely flock under the trees. Some of them might actually survive. He imagined the birds collecting around the church grounds as people arrived. Somehow he had to get them all gathered into one place and out of sight.
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