by Leisha Kelly
“Sure. People used to ask me if I’d ever get a horse. And he’s so big. It just seemed to fit.”
“So is he ours?”
“I guess. If he wants to be.”
Mom came out to greet the dog, glad to see him looking so well. Katie wasn’t as happy. She stood in the doorway, but she didn’t come near. I understood how she felt, at least a little. But I was glad to see the big animal back. And he was just in time.
The next day a strange car pulled into our drive and the dog let us know in no uncertain terms. It turned out to be Rorey with Eugene Turrey. They’d come like they promised. But Horse didn’t think they belonged. He barked and growled awful, especially at Eugene, until Mom managed to call him off. I couldn’t help being a little surprised because the dog had always been so gentle for us.
I think Eugene smelled of liquor, and the dog didn’t like it any better than I did. If Mom realized, she didn’t say anything, but sat them down at the kitchen table for a cup of hot cocoa. Rorey was wearing a dress that she shouldn’t even have tried squeezing her bosom into. She talked on and on about St. Louis and how great the city was and how much they loved their apartment and Eugene’s job and such. And I found it all very hard to listen to. They were already sharing an apartment; they had been for a long time, without even stopping to consider that a shame.
I knew the Scriptures said not to judge. But it also said to be separate and not live like the ungodly of the world. Rorey didn’t care. She’d never cared what the Bible had to say. She used to tease Frank over quoting it when we were kids and would get downright mean about it. So I shouldn’t have been surprised when she reacted with a scoff when Mom told her Frank had preached in Camp Point last night. It wasn’t big enough news to warrant more than a moment of her attention. She started talking right away about some friend of Eugene’s who was part of a honky-tonk band.
And then out of the blue she told us she wanted to have her wedding right in our yard, because it would be beautiful in June with all the greenery and flowers. She wasn’t even asking, just informing us, like it was something we should have thought of ourselves. Mom didn’t promise anything. She only said she’d talk to Dad about it when he got home from work. But in our yard? Three days before my wedding? It almost seemed like she was purposely trying to be difficult. I was glad Frank and I were planning to be married in the church. At least she wouldn’t be disrupting the preparations there.
She talked on and on about the band-member’s girlfriend, whom she planned to invite as a bridesmaid, and another new friend that worked in the butcher shop below their apartment. And then suddenly they were ready to leave again, to go visit Eugene’s family and some of his friends in town.
“Have you stopped to see any of your brothers and sisters?” Mom asked Rorey before they got out the door.
She shook her head. “I figured you’d probably want to have them all for dinner tomorrow, since we’re here. We can see them then.” And they scurried to the car. Mom had to yell at the dog again to get him to leave Eugene alone.
I stood on the porch for a minute watching them drive off, scarcely able to believe Rorey’s crassness. How could she have gotten so ill-mannered and disrespectful? My mother and father had done so much for the Hammond kids, and the rest acknowledged and honored them in their own ways. But Rorey seemed to think she could walk in here and use them for whatever was convenient to her.
Mom turned her attention back to the laundry, not letting Rorey’s appearance interrupt any more of her day. But I thought of Frank, due to be on his way home tomorrow. I was almost ashamed to think it, but I hoped Rorey and Eugene would be gone by the time he got here. They both liked ridiculing him, pushing for a reaction. Mom hadn’t told them he’d be back, and I was glad.
I prayed for no problems or delays on Frank’s return trip, and for peace when he got here. There were so many things to think about. Not just Rorey and Eugene, or Kirk and Bert and their attitude. There was also Donald Mueller. How would Frank react to that? Did I even need to tell him? I hadn’t been able to bring myself to when we’d talked on the phone on his birthday. I hadn’t wanted it wearing on him as he prepared his sermon.
I wished I could get rid of the feeling that everything had changed. I wanted the world the way it used to be when we’d had nothing but farm chores and a few wood orders to think about, and then settling down in the evenings with Mom’s reading or Dad’s stories. But we weren’t kids anymore. Frank had moved on. My parents, and these farms, were not the center of his life anymore. For better or for worse. And I wasn’t sure what that would mean.
18
Frank
I woke up Monday morning anxious to get back to Jacksonville so I could get my work done and get home to see Sarah. I’d paid for a room for the night in Camp Point even though I prob’ly could have stayed with one of the church folks. I didn’t want to impose on any of them, but one sweet old lady’d asked me to stop by before I left town so she could give me a pie. I’d protested, but she said she liked to bake pies for folks and I’d cheat her out of a blessing if I didn’t let her.
So I got dressed, reciting in my head the directions she’d told me. She lived on the west side of town, a couple blocks up from the train depot. I prayed for her and her church, not expecting that I’d ever be back there. Then I prayed for Sam and his family. None of us would be seeing them again till the wedding.
The sun was shining bright. Would have been a perfect day if it wasn’t so cold again. I went whistling out to the truck, carrying my old suitcase. One more day finishing up Thelma’s kitchen cupboards. And then I’d be driving again. Maybe if I got done quick enough, I could leave tonight.
The sweet old lady’s name was Hannah Haywood. It wasn’t hard to find her house, small and neat with empty planter boxes lining the porch. I imagined she had them filled with flowers in the spring and summer, and maybe her whole yard too.
But as I stepped out of the truck and closed the door, I turned my eyes for just a moment to the house across the street. Two story, white, with a nice garage and a really big yard. Another building stood in the lot next to it. A business building, but obviously empty, it had two big windows up front and a double side door prob’ly wider than my truck. There was a sign out front. My gut churned a little as I struggled to focus on the letters in the top line. F-O-R S-A-L-E.
The effort to read that much was exhausting, and I didn’t even try to read the words below it. Mrs. Haywood had already stepped out to her porch. She was surely wondering why I was just standing so long staring across the street.
“That would make a fine shop for somebody, wouldn’t it?” she said. “It’s bigger inside than it looks. The back room is big too.”
I turned and stared at her, not even able to answer.
“Hope you like gooseberry pie. I had so many berries canned. A neighbor has a bush, but she wasn’t using any. Said I could have all I wanted. Would you like to come in out of the cold for a cup of coffee?”
I nodded my head, but she kept right on talking.
“I enjoyed what you said last night. Hope you enjoy the pie. Those berries might be some of my last, you know. They’re moving before long, and I suppose that’ll be the end of the gooseberries for me. Don’t think I’ll put in a bush of my own. Never had to, so long as I’ve been here. The lady who lived there before them shared with me too.”
She opened her door wide and motioned me forward. I went, but I wasn’t sure how to respond to all of her talk. The shop was for sale. A neighbor’s house too? I should get myself out of here. I shouldn’t linger even long enough for that cup of coffee, lest my thoughts get to turning in strange directions.
But I went ahead after the woman because I’d told her I would, and when I stepped up on her porch, I turned my head to look at that building one more time. It could be perfect. If the back room really was big enough for my workshop, it was just what I’d been looking for down in Dearing and Mcleansboro. And there might be a house available righ
t close too.
Oh, Lord, here? Should I get my mind off this quick? Help me. Direct my steps.
Hannah Haywood chatted pleasantly while I drank my coffee, but I doubt I heard most of it. She cut me a piece of her pie, and it was good, but I couldn’t keep my mind on that. If I was to inquire about that place, what would Sarah think? Would it be foolish of me to want to see inside?
Finally I told Mrs. Haywood that I really had to be going. I had a long way to drive back to Jacksonville, and quite a bit of work yet to do. She had to remind me that she wanted me to take the rest of the gooseberry pie, and I thanked her again. I would’ve gone on and driven to Sam’s house then, trying not to give that building another thought. But when we got outside, a man was just stepping out of his car and heading toward the two-story house.
“There’s my neighbor now,” Mrs. Haywood told me. “They say they’re moving this spring. I sure am gonna miss ’em.” She waved real big at the man, and he waved back, stepping onto their porch.
“Um—Mrs. Haywood, do they own both the house and the commercial building?” I dared ask her.
“Yes, they do. Thought they might put a auction place in there, but it never worked out with the job Mr. Bellor got.”
I carried the pie to my truck. I set it absently on the seat and thanked her again. And then I turned and looked at that building some more. I should drive away. I really, really oughta drive away, before I gave Sam and Sarah and everybody else cause to wonder at me again. I took a deep breath.
“Mrs. Haywood, do you think your neighbor would mind showin’ me the place?”
My heart started pounding. Here I go again, doing just the opposite of what my head was trying to say. Just like that church.
“Well, no,” she said immediately with some surprise in her voice. “Of course he wouldn’t mind. They’re wanting to sell it. They’re moving up to Hancock County, closer to family. He’s going to work for his father, I think.”
I turned and looked at her, feeling tense and hesitant.
“Go on over and ask if you want,” she prompted. “He surely won’t mind. He’s probably back home for a bite of breakfast. He does that sometimes. Leaves real early and works just up town, you know. Next to the Pig Parlor. Go ahead and ask.”
“I . . . uh . . . wouldn’t want to interrupt a man’s breakfast.”
“Nonsense.” She smiled real big. “His wife Tilda told me how badly they’re needing a buyer. They’ve got their eye on a house near Carthage already, as I understand it. Quite a thought, you and that place! Didn’t I hear you’re getting married? There’s a lot in that house to like.”
My heart was still pounding. What was Sarah gonna think? With my insides feeling bunched tighter than a straw bale, I went on across the street, and Mrs. Haywood followed me.
Mr. James Bellor didn’t at all mind showing me the property, even though it meant he’d have to carry his breakfast back to work with him instead of sitting down with his wife and children. He opened the store and ushered me inside, turning on an electric light that startled me because I hadn’t expected it.
“Would make a nice business,” he said. “Plenty of show room up here. What kind of work do you do?”
“Wood,” I answered. “Furniture and carving.”
“Oh, then you’ll appreciate the back.”
Before we’d spent two minutes in the front of the shop he was heading me toward a double doorway in back. And that room was every bit as big as the front. With shelves and cupboards built in at the walls and a back door as wide as the side door I’d seen. I stood scarcely listening while he told me when the place was built and what it had been used for before.
“I’m not wanting too much for it,” he said. “Because the roof needs work. You do that kind of thing?”
“I have. Back home.”
“Well, then that won’t be a problem. Did you notice the yard? Big, ain’t it? Goes clear to the corner.”
I nodded. I’d noticed that.
“Previous owner put in town water to the little washroom back here,” he said, opening a door to show me. “Are you interested in the house too?”
I swallowed down something in my throat. “Maybe.”
“More to look at over there. Wanna go see?”
I went. Feeling shaky, half crazy, or maybe even cruel, I followed as he showed me room after room. Kitchen. Sitting room. Dining room. Two bedrooms upstairs and one down. The place could use a lot of work, I could tell that. But nothing I couldn’t do. What would Sarah think? That I’d lied to her about being ready to leave this town? That I was being a fool and not thinking of her feelings?
“This place needs roof work too,” Mr. Bellor admitted. “I’ll have to be honest with you about that. Needs quite a bit, to be real honest. But if you’re handy, maybe it ain’t a problem. Wanna see the cellar?”
I nodded. Mrs. Haywood had stopped in the kitchen to talk to Tilda Bellor. I could still hear them, goin’ on about gooseberries and peonies and hollyhocks and such. There was a nice furnace in the basement, the kind that could be converted for coal oil or wood. Upstairs there was one fireplace. And a new kitchen stove that Mrs. Bellor was quick to point out she wanted to take with her.
I took a deep breath. Indoor plumbing. Electric. Plenty of room for a family, inside and out. They had a big, big yard with nice trees and a wide-open spot in the back. “What are you asking?” I had to know, though I almost hoped the figure he told me would be too high to even consider.
It wasn’t. It was actually quite a bit less than I expected, well within the range of what Sarah and I had worked out would be manageable if we needed to get a bank loan.
“Let me think—let me pray on this,” I told them. And then I couldn’t stay even a minute longer. I had to go, away from those folks, someplace alone. I felt like I could break down like a fool and cry.
I went to that frozen pond in Bailey Park. I sat in a snowbank, not caring if I got wet or cold, leaned back, and stared up at the crystal clear sky.
“What is this, Lord? What am I doing here? What do you want? Is this some stupid accident, me finding that place? Now what do I do? It’s got everything I wished for! Is it nothing but temptation?”
I didn’t have an answer. I didn’t even want to get up out of the snow. But Sam and Thelma would be expecting me, and one way or another I still had that work to finish. So I drove back to Jacksonville with my thoughts tossing every which way. I was supposed to be leaving tomorrow. None of this was making any sense.
Thelma wanted to know how the speaking went at the church. It wasn’t easy to turn my thoughts to that enough to even tell her. She must have known I was thinkin’ deep on something because instead a’ stayin’ right there talking to me or lettin’ the children climb all around while I worked on the cupboards, she took them upstairs with her and let me work alone.
Sarah had read me a quote in a newspaper once, that the secret of success in life is to be ready for your opportunity when it comes. But was this the opportunity I’d wanted? Should I jump at it the way I was itching to, or was I just being an idiot? I didn’t know Camp Point that well. I didn’t know if my store had a chance here or not. So many things could happen. What if folks were right and I really couldn’t manage on my own?
Poor Sarah. She didn’t know what she was getting herself into, marrying up with me. I didn’t even know what I was gonna do from one day to the next. We hadn’t arranged no other telephone time because I’d thought I’d be leaving. I needed to talk to her, but if I called the Marathon station, she wouldn’t be there. Maybe her father would be. Maybe I could arrange a time tomorrow.
I should go call. Right now. Thelma’d let me. But I couldn’t quite bring myself to do it. Sarah wanted me to head back tomorrow. I wanted it too. Didn’t I?
As soon as I got those cupboards done I took a long walk. Thelma asked when I got back if I was feeling all right.
“Yes,” I told her. But I couldn’t explain. Not a word of it.
When Sam got home, I packed all my things, ready to leave in the morning. He wanted to play checkers, pop popcorn, and listen to the radio, spending time with the family on my last full night with them. But it was hard to keep my train of thought on what was going on around me. Two or three times, maybe more, somebody spoke to me and I didn’t even notice until they got to repeating themselves or come up and touched my arm.
“What’s the problem tonight?” Sam finally asked me. “Somethin’ on your mind?”
“I need to go back tomorrow.”
“We know that,” he said with a funny look. “We’ve all been knowin’ that since last week. It’s been good to have you. Wish I could keep you longer. But I understand that you wanna go home. I would too if my girl was there.”
“No.” I shook my head. “You don’t understand. I need to go back to Camp Point tomorrow.”
“What? Why?” Understandably, he looked confused. “Not that church for some reason? Tomorrow’s Tuesday. Surely there ain’t no services on a Tuesday.”
“No. It’s not about the church.”
He brightened. “You wanna talk to Uncle Milty again?”
I shook my head. “I appreciate him. I like him all right. But his place just ain’t for me, Sam. I couldn’t feel right about it.”
“Well, then what in blue blazes are you talkin’ about?”
I couldn’t tell him. I don’t know why. I almost did. But then I just couldn’t. Maybe he’d step in to try to help me. Maybe he’d tell me the whole thing was stupid. I didn’t know. I didn’t wanna find out. “I just need to go back there. Just one more time. Just to be sure.”
“And what are you tryin’ to be sure of?” he asked me with the question big in his eyes.
“I’ll go early. Real early. And I’ll stop back here before I go on. I promise. And I’ll tell you then.”
He shrugged. “Guess it wouldn’t do me any good to press you for details or tell you not to waste your gas again, huh? You’re a genuine puzzle to have around. I sure hope Sarah knows what she’s gettin’ into.”
