by Leisha Kelly
I bowed my head, hiding my eyes newly brimming with wetness so Dad wouldn’t see from across the room. Frank was talking about not coming home at all. Not until the wedding. And then? “Oh, Frank. I thought you were so sure it wasn’t right for you up there.”
“The other place wasn’t.”
He wasn’t listening to what I’d really meant, and I couldn’t say anything more. Our silence hung in the air. I’d promised to trust him. Straight out. No specifics or exceptions. But could I?
“Sarah, I love you,” he said real quiet. “I just want you to consider it, that’s all I’m askin’. I don’t have to tell ’em today. I’ll give you whatever time you want. And if you just can’t see clear to the idea of makin’ a life up here, then I . . . I can tell ’em no.”
I’d never heard his voice like this before. Bold and excited. Yet timid and uncertain at the same time. He really wanted this, I could tell.
“What does Sam think?”
“He don’t know nothin’ about it. And I ain’t tellin’ him, Sarah. He’d want to come to the bank with me and everything, and I’m not havin’ it. I gotta do this on my own. Do you understand?”
He had such a depth of emotion in his voice. It made me a little afraid. “You wouldn’t want me at the bank then, either, would you?”
He was quiet, but only for a second. “Sarah Jean, forgive me. I can’t do this without talkin’ to you. I can’t do it without your okay, ’cause it’s your life too. But no, I wouldn’t want you there. Not right now. I need to do this myself if I can. And if I can’t, then I need to find that out now and quit foolin’ myself. This is the only time, Sarah, for me to know for sure I won’t just be leanin’ on you—”
“Franky, you never lean on anybody! Except God! Don’t you realize how everybody’s leaned on you? Your whole family! They never would have made it through the war and losing your folks—not half so well. And me—I’d be a wreck without you! Don’t you know that?”
He was quiet, a much longer time. “No. I guess I don’t.”
I should have jumped in with more assurances, but I couldn’t find my tongue, and before I knew it he went on.
“You been readin’ for me. And seein’ to plenty a’ things to help me out. Your mother and Thelma too. Even Bert and the rest. I’m not sure anybody really thinks I can get anywhere without that. And maybe I can’t. But I wanna try. If I fall on my face and make a mess a’ everything, I could still come home and tell everybody they was right all along. Then maybe I’d pick up WH where I left off and live close by your folks if you’d still have me. I’d do the very best I could for you. Every day a’ my life.”
“Oh, Frank.”
“I love you so much, Sarah. I wanna be better than that for you. Do you understand? I’ll always need you. But I want you to be able to lean on me, not the other way around. I wanna work and make something for you that our families don’t have to fix for us. I love them too, but if I let them do any a’ this for me, I ain’t sure I’ll feel like I’m worth all a’ what you are to me.”
My heart was pounding in my throat and I could scarcely breathe. “Frank—you don’t have to prove your worth. I love you the way you are. I always have. If that’s what this is about—”
“It’s about what I think’s right for us,” he said then, still sounding timid. “If you’ll have it. I ain’t sure I ever felt like this about nothin’ before. Like I’ve been directed. Like circumstances brought me up here and led my heart ’round till I could find this place. I can picture us here.”
When I tried to speak again, my voice sounded quivery. “B-but the closest relatives’ll be more than fifty miles away.”
“I know. And I think that’s what I need. At least for a while.”
Again, there was silence between us. I thought of Kirk on the morning Frank left, nudging him, calling him a knucklehead, and telling me he’d be back. I thought of Rorey’s awful letter and Bert’s words about what was realistic. None of them believed he could do this. He hadn’t even told Sam, because Sam wouldn’t think he should even try. Not alone. Not the way he wanted it.
Oh, Lord, he really can’t read well enough yet! What will happen when they give him papers at the bank? What if they turn him down because he has trouble filling out what they need from him? He’d be absolutely deflated. Why is this so important? Why so far away? What should I tell him?
“I gotta leave it up to you, Sarah,” he said then. “It wouldn’t be right to do this if you’re against it. I want you to be happy.”
I closed my eyes against the tears in them. Oh, Frank. How can you tell me all this and then say it’s up to me? How could I deny you for my own comfort’s sake?
Trust. That’s what I needed. I didn’t want to cry, not in a way that he’d hear me, but I couldn’t help it. I tried to stop. I tried to pull the receiver away just a little so he wouldn’t hear, but I didn’t want to miss a word that he might say to me.
“Sarah? Oh, Sarah, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t lay all this on you. It’s just wrong. I know what you want—”
I took a deep breath, trying to shove my voice through the tears. “I-I want you satisfied.”
“I can come home,” he said quickly. “I can just forget all this. Please don’t cry. There’ll be something—something down there—”
His voice was shaky. And I couldn’t bear it anymore. “Frank! I want you satisfied! I want you to do what you know in your heart is best. You’re more important to me than the farm. I can’t keep the same life we had when we were kids. Do what you need to do! Please.”
He was quiet so long I thought we might have been disconnected. Finally, when he spoke, his voice sounded far away and yet still somehow strong. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” I took a deep breath. Trust. I’d promised. Lord, help me be able.
“Are you really sure? I won’t get the terms Sam offered me. I won’t get Kirk nor your father to co-sign for me neither. Did you know they both offered to do that when we were lookin’ at houses down there?”
“No.”
“They did. Because Wilfred Patterson at the bank has a nephew that went to school with me, remember?”
“Yes.”
“So they all think I belong in a loony bin or in some government program to help the feeble-minded.”
“Oh, Frank. Not that bad.”
“You think not. He said plain out I’d need a co-signer or they wouldn’t have no confidence in me. Your father told me he said that. But I’m gonna go in the bank up here and be flat-out honest with ’em, and I’m gonna get me a loan if the good Lord wills.”
I felt a surge of something warm inside me. “I believe you will.”
“But only if that’s what you want. I mean, I know you wanted to live down there. But if you can see it clear . . . to give this a chance . . .”
For a fleeting second I wondered what a difference there would be to our future if I just told him no. It was just too far. I wanted to lean on family, even if he didn’t. That would be far easier, but I couldn’t say it. I couldn’t dash a hope like that. “Yes. Talk to the bank. Give it a chance. I love you.”
“Oh, lordy, Sarah. I love you too. You are the absolute best—”
“Tell me about the house some more.”
We talked on a very long time. And by the time we finished, I felt good about the choice I’d made, so long as I didn’t think too long and hard about the details. Debt. So far from home. So far from the safety net my parents had always been for both of us.
Seven thousand dollars was a lot of money to commit. But a very good deal for the property we’d be getting. If Frank could make the business work. Lord, let him not be disappointed.
Dad found work to do at the station, since we’d be stuck here for several hours. I sat and prayed for a while because Frank was going to talk to the bank this very day if he could, and I had a strange mix of feelings about it. In a way I would still be relieved if nothing worked out up there, and yet I knew I would be saddened and
disappointed for Frank now too.
As the time wore on, I got restless. If he had anything more to report, Frank would call before we expected to be leaving, but that could be hours away.
We’d been in such a rush to leave home that I hadn’t taken time to bring any needlework, and we had nothing with us for lunch either. So I decided to bundle up and walk a block down the street to Dearing’s little library for a book of poems, and on the way back stop and get us each a sandwich at the café halfway between. Dad was hesitant about me heading out in the steady snowfall, but it was such a short way. He had me call first to make sure the librarian was there. She was, because she lived only two blocks away and hated to close for anything.
Dad saw to it that I had my coat buttoned and my hat, scarf, and mittens in place, as though he had forgotten I was almost twenty-one. He gave me a big hug and added a blanket around my shoulders when I turned to leave. I wondered if he was already thinking about what it would be like with me gone away to Camp Point. I was.
The snow was noticeably deeper, and the air felt frigid. I was very glad there was no biting wind. In beautiful weather, the short jaunt from the Marathon station to the library would have been over in no time, but today time seemed to flow differently and the town hardly seemed real. Everything was pretty, like the inside of a Christmasy snow globe. But there was hardly anyone out, and I was glad to reach the library steps.
Mrs. Kittering was pleased to have the company. She asked questions about my family and chatted with me most of the time I was there. I looked at several poetry books before selecting one that featured Elizabeth Barrett Browning. I’d always loved her work, and it was small enough to fit in my coat pocket so I could keep it protected from the snow.
No vehicles were parked outside the café. I would have guessed there were no customers. But as I got close, the door opened and a lone young man stepped out to the porch. He turned and looked at me, and I froze in my tracks. Donald Mueller.
“Well, Sarah,” he said with a smile as he stepped from the café toward me.
“I thought you were with Orville on the mail route.”
“He dropped me off not five minutes after you.”
“I need to get some sandwiches. Get out of the way.” My words were abrupt, harsh. Quickly I added, “Please.”
He chuckled. “So did you hear from Frank?”
I nodded, not wanting to talk to him.
“Is he coming back? Rorey said he was due in last night but he hadn’t left yet. Is he having trouble with his truck?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Didn’t forget the way, did he? Boy, what would he do? Can he find Dearing on a map, do you think?”
“Shut up and let me by.”
Only one narrow path was shoveled on the sidewalk, and Donald was standing in it. I tried to go around him, even though it meant plodding through the deeper snow, but he sidestepped to stay in front of me.
“Is he gonna stay? What’d he say, Sarah? Did he leave you behind for whatever job it is he’s thinkin’ about up there?”
“No. Get out of my way. Please.”
“You seem upset about something. I can tell. Is everything okay?” He reached his hand toward my arm, and I pulled back.
“You’re what’s upsetting me! Leave me alone!”
He looked strangely sad. “Just think about it, Sarah. Do you really want to leave everything you know? And follow him willy-nilly who knows where?”
I stared at him. How could he seem to know the questions in my heart? It was as though his words were designed to shake away the certainty I’d felt over what I’d told Frank. Of course it was right that Frank should have this opportunity. How could I deny him something so important? And yet, here was the tempter, asking me again what I wanted, suggesting that I back out of a promise and follow my own will.
“Let me by,” I warned. “Or I’ll scream. And don’t think nobody would hear. I can be loud if I need to be.”
“I would never threaten you,” he said, the sadness even stronger in his eyes.
“Then move.” I struggled in the deep snow to go around him again, and this time he let me by. But he followed me toward the café door.
“Sarah—I’ve liked you a lot since tenth grade. I figured you’d give up on Frank eventually, but . . .”
He hesitated and I kept on walking.
“Orville said if I was ever gonna have a chance, it was now or never to get your attention. I care about you, okay? I don’t want you to be hurt or drug off someplace by somebody that don’t know what he’s doin’ half the time. I got a good job, Sarah. I’m gonna buy my Aunt Mabel’s place right here in town.”
Just like the dream. With my heart pounding fiercely, I rushed to open the café door. Shut up! I wanted to shout at him. Leave me alone!
I hurried inside, but he followed me. There was a woman with graying hair behind the counter, and I got her attention immediately. “Two roast beef sandwiches to go, please. And may I use your telephone to call the Marathon station?”
She looked at me oddly. “That’s only two doors down.”
“I know. But I need to call anyway. Right away.”
She glanced at Donald but gave me a nod. “Aren’t you Sarah Wortham?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“The telephone’s in the back to the right.”
“Thank you.”
I hurried to call my father, and while I was back there I heard the waitress talking to Donald, but I couldn’t tell what she said. When I came back to the front room, he was gone.
“He left you a note,” she told me.
My heart was still pounding. Had she been conspiring with him? Why? “I don’t want it.”
“He said you wouldn’t. He said he didn’t mean to scare you. He just wanted you to know how he felt.”
I plopped into a chair and felt like crying. “Why would you relay his message? I just want him to leave me alone.”
“He’s a good kid,” she said then. “A bit misguided sometimes. But he means well.”
“How do you know what he means?” I felt like I was shaking inside.
“I’m a good friend of his mama. We talk sometimes.”
I was horrified to think it might be talked around town that Donald Mueller had a crush on me. What if it got back to Frank? Oh, for gracious sakes! Rorey and Eugene surely knew already. And they’d make the most of it if they could.
Dad got there before the cook had the sandwiches ready. He took me in his arms and held me for a minute. “He seems to be gone, pumpkin.”
“Was it stupid to ask you to walk me the rest of the way?”
He shook his head. “You did the right thing.”
Try as I might, I couldn’t keep the tears from welling up and overflowing then. This was just too much today. I wanted to go home, curl up, and cry.
“He didn’t mean you no harm,” the waitress said as Dad paid her for the sandwiches. “He just wanted the opportunity to talk.”
I hadn’t seen such a fierce face on my father for a long time. “You can tell him I’ll be calling the law if he comes near my daughter again. And I’ll be after him myself if I see so much as one more letter.”
I didn’t have the appetite for that sandwich. I would never have expected Donald to push things so far. He’d asked me out on dates plenty of times when we were in school, but I’d always turned him down and thought that was the end of it. Now he was a grown man, twenty-three like Frank, and he hadn’t let it go.
Dad was worried for me, I could tell. I told him everything Donald did and said, and though he wasn’t really threatening, I’d been scared just the same. And Dad was mad. That waitress had probably told Donald he’d better clear out before my father got there, and she’d been right. Who knew what might have happened?
We talked some more about Frank’s decision and my answer to it. Dad was sure I was right to be supportive, but he knew it was hard too. Especially when I’d been expecting Frank home. After
a while, Dad tried to get back to work on an old engine while we waited. I pulled out the poetry book and tried to read, but I just couldn’t concentrate.
I dreaded riding home with Orville now, even if Donald wasn’t with him. And Dad must have thought that through. He wiped his hands on an old grease rag and tried calling Charlie Hunter’s home telephone. He wasn’t there, but Dad told his wife that we needed a ride if he was able to give us one.
I sat and prayed. Forcing Donald from my thinking, I ran through the conversation with Frank again in my mind. And then a thousand jumbled memories rushed through me. Of Frank the day his leg got broken, being brave despite the pain. Of his brothers and other boys tormenting him endlessly, calling him retarded and scatterbrained and crazy. Of sitting under the apple tree with him while he calculated sums he couldn’t do on paper. And then listening with wonder while he told about the cherubim described in the book of Ezekiel and about molecules and elements, and how that excited him when he thought of the Lord God forming Adam from the dust of the ground.
It was stupid for Donald to try to get my attention. Frank and I had shared so much for so long. Heartache and loss. Good times and bad. I couldn’t feel for anybody else what I felt for Frank. Not ever.
I still remembered the day we’d talked in the timber when the war was young, when he’d asked me to always be his friend. It’d been easy to promise that I would, even though the things we were going through and about to go through weren’t easy at all. I knew I’d loved Frank even then, before either of us had known to admit it, because he was honest enough to bare his heart and humble enough to admit his own fears.
Lord, help me not to doubt, not to fear, despite the squeezing press of nerves I feel inside. Frank trusts you. He believes you’re leading him. Help me to have peace in that, no matter what comes. Help me to fulfill my promise and really, really trust you, not just go through empty motions or empty words.
