Sarah's Promise

by Leisha Kelly

  We’d been there almost two hours when the pastor left this world. It was bittersweet, so much sadness put together with the family singing hymns, and the comfort of knowing the blessings that man’d gone on to receive. I prayed quiet most of that time, not sure why the Lord had seen fit to include me in this.

  The pastor’s wife was strong. I knew it must have been an awful blow, but she was handling it a whole lot better than many people handle such things. My pa had fell apart when Mama died, and then when my brother got killed, he was so bad he just couldn’t go on. I prayed for this lady and her family. She was old and really little, but sturdy. In some ways she reminded me of Emma Graham, the neighbor lady who’d done so much for us and left her farm to the Worthams. I still missed her sometimes, because she didn’t treat me no different than the rest of my brothers, except maybe to give me a little extra attention now and then.

  That’d been so awful long ago. Before my blasted limp, and a whole lot of loss. I sighed, pushing away those kinda thoughts. This man’d had two sons and a daughter, and they were all here. I prayed for them, pretty much knowing what they must be feeling at a time like this. Lord God, give them peace.

  When there was nothing else to be done and Mr. Willings was ready to go, the newly widowed old lady came up an’ give me a hug. “God bless you, young man,” she said.

  “Thank you,” I struggled to answer her. “God bless you too, ma’am. I’m real sorry for your loss.”

  “My loss is Herman’s gain,” she replied, squeezing tight onto her dampened hanky. “Thank the Lord for the promise of heaven.” She seemed to be searching me. “Are you the one that spoke at the church last Sunday night? I heard you did a fine job.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. That was me.”

  “Do come back. I’d be pleased to hear you.”

  I nodded. She went on down the hall with one of her sons, and Mr. Willings and me went back outside to the truck.

  “Are you too tired to drive back?” he asked me. “We’ve been up most the night.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  I wasn’t too sure about the first turn out of Quincy, but after that it wasn’t hard to retrace the way I’d come. Good thing, because Mr. Willings fell asleep in his seat. I was beat by the time we got to Camp Point but not about to show it. I woke Mr. Willings and helped him inside. I wasn’t expecting it, but he asked me to stay. He said he didn’t feel like being there alone right then, even though he knew he wouldn’t be doing nothing but sleeping.

  In the morning he called the bank and didn’t go in. I’d stretched out on his couch just to be close if he needed something. He’d seemed awful feeble on the way in the house last night. I wasn’t sure if it was the sadness or the weariness, but I was glad to stay because I was concerned for him. He moved slow that morning too, and he had a lot of telephone calls to make. Everybody from the church needed to know. There’d be a funeral, and the church women’d be called on to feed the family afterward.

  I felt out of place all over again, but Mr. Willings didn’t want me to leave just yet. In between telephone calls, he started to fix sausage and eggs, but then somebody called him, so I took over the cooking. I wanted to have some way to help him out. I made him a cup of coffee, found some bread, and toasted a couple of slices of it. So when he was through on the telephone again I had a plate ready for him.

  “You are a godsend, do you know that, Franklin?”

  I guess I didn’t. I was just dealing with the situation best I could. And wondering at him calling me “Franklin” all the time. No one else ever had, except my pa when he was angry, but he’d always thrown in my middle name too.

  We sat and ate, and he thanked me for taking him to Quincy last night.

  “You already thanked me,” I reminded him. “I need to thank you for breakfast.”

  “That’s been as much your doing as it was mine.”

  We ate quiet for a while, and then he looked at me with a real serious expression. “I would like you to pray about something, please. Last night before he passed, Herman and his wife asked me to consider pastoring the church in his stead rather than leading the church in a search for someone else. I’ll have to speak to the congregation, but I intend to do as most of them wish, even if it means accepting such a call.”

  He studied me for a second. “I’m aware this may seem hasty, but either way I’d like you to consider speaking regularly for us on Sunday nights, at least for a time. It would be a great help.”

  “I’m not sure I’m qualified.”

  He nodded. “Perhaps not as much as you’ll eventually be. But you’re certainly called.”

  Tingling jitters went shootin’ inside me. I’d never been sure of such a call. Not for preaching at least, despite what other people seemed to think. “Um . . . I don’t know, sir.”

  He nodded again. “That’s all right. Just pray about helping us for a while, since you expect to be in the area. That’s all I ask.”

  I agreed to pray about it. I really couldn’t do nothin’ else. He was concerned about keeping me up so much of the night when I had to meet with the banker again today. But there wasn’t anything to be done about that, and I wouldn’t have changed it. He prayed with me, that the Lord’d grant favor in my business dealings, and I came away from his house thinking sure that God had me in Camp Point for more than my own independent ideas.

  “Your will be done,” I said when I was getting in my truck. “Direct my steps. And my heart.”

  I went to my rented room to clean up and change clothes. Then I drove by the property again to take a closer look at the foundations. When the time came to go to the bank that afternoon, I was crazy excited but tried not to let it show. The loan officer’s name was Cyril Hayes. He told me he was willing to give my business a chance. So he approved my loan application and had his secretary read me the papers.

  When we were all done, he said he loved fine wood and would like to see some of my work if he could.

  “Got a cedar chest with a few pieces inside it under a tarp on my truck,” I told him. And he was eager to step outside with me and take a look.

  He bought the toddler chair on the spot and ordered another one. Said he had twin baby girls that’d grow into them before you know it. Then he looked over the eagle and asked if I thought I could do a desk-sized horse just as nice.

  “Yeah. I’ve done horses before. Pair of ’em on bookends for the mayor down in Dearing.”

  He wanted to take the eagle inside and show his coworkers. I got a lot of nice comments, and when he was ready for me to put the carving away again he said the bank’d be honoring Lance Willings soon for years of service.

  “We’ve already been discussing a suitable gift for him, and his love of horses has come up more than once. I wanted to show your work around today because we may choose to commission a horse carving, the finest work you can do.”

  “That would be a pleasure,” I told him, hoping for the opportunity to make something special for Mr. Willings. Maybe I’d do it even if the bank chose not to order from me.

  I left there with my mind awhirl. I’d made a new sale. And way bigger than that, I’d got the loan approved. It felt like a gift from God.

  I wished I could talk to Sarah, but I’d told her not to go to town today if the weather was bad. They had Mr. Willings’s telephone number now. We’d be talking soon. But I wished I could hear her voice. I was still a little worried for her.

  Lord, give Sarah a heart of peace and joy in this. Bless her real big. She’s such a blessing to me.

  I drove by the Bellors’ place real slow and stopped to look for a minute. This was gonna be mine. Ours. I couldn’t wait for Sarah to see it. She’d fall in love with it, I knew she would. And I had a lot a’ work to do gettin’ the business established and makin’ the place the best I could for her between now and June.

  For the first time I wondered what I should call the business here in Camp Point. WH, which stood for Wortham and Hammond, might still be appropri
ate since I was marrying a Wortham, but it was prob’ly time for something new.

  “He that tilleth his land shall have plenty of bread,” the Scriptures say. And I had a storefront to fill. I’d be tillin’ away a lot a’ hours just on that, not to mention the roofs and everything else the property was gonna need. I couldn’t remember ever feeling so excited. This was an answer to prayer, sure as I was alive.

  21

  Sarah

  Two opinions wrestled inside me that afternoon as I knew Frank would be seeing the banker again. “Lord, work all things smoothly if it is your will,” I prayed. But almost in the same breath I said, “Close every door if that would be better.”

  Emmie, Bert, Harry, Rorey, and Eugene were all at our house again, and unfortunately Frank’s decision was the topic of conversation.

  “I didn’t see it comin’,” Bert said. “Don’t know what to think.”

  “I’d like to know what he’s thinkin’,” Harry replied.

  “Just quit,” I said to both of them. Emmie Grace’s eyes filled with tears, and I gave her a hug. I was about to promise her that we’d welcome her in our home, but Rorey broke in before I had the chance.

  “Looks like you got a choice to make now, Sarah,” Rorey suggested smugly. “You ain’t married yet, you know.”

  “Might be greener pastures closer to home,” Eugene added.

  Emmie was stunned. “What do you mean by that? Are you tryin’ to say they might not get married?”

  “They’re talking nonsense,” I assured her. “Because they don’t have sense enough not to listen to idiots.”

  Rorey’s eyes flashed. “That’s the rudest thing I ever heard you say.”

  “You deserve it if you think I’m going to turn my back on Frank.”

  Mom interrupted the conversation to serve up tea and cake. Rorey and Eugene were leaving in the morning. I tried to put aside my frustration at them and be civil, but they were irritating to their very last moment with us.

  “Frank missed out on his cake,” Rorey observed, helping herself to a generous piece.

  Emmie was very upset. “We’ll make him another one,” she answered sourly.

  “Might be hard to do. Never know what’s gonna happen now.”

  Eugene gobbled down three pieces of cake. I couldn’t even eat one. Mom did her best to keep the rest of the talk light until Eugene got up to get their coats.

  “We’ll see you in June,” Rorey announced. “Thanks, Mrs. Wortham, for hosting our wedding.”

  “You’ll need to get started seeing to the details,” Mom suggested.

  But Rorey was rather flippant. “You pretty much know what to do.”

  Mom shook her head. “Maybe so, but it’s not our job to do it. Have you been thinking about a dress, flowers, invitations—”

  “A little. We have plenty of time.”

  “Not so much when you consider everything. Especially the dress.”

  “C’mon, hon.” Eugene hurried Rorey before she could answer. “Clem’ll be waiting.”

  Clem was one of Eugene’s brothers. They were all going out drinking on Rorey’s last night here, though she could have stayed with us or gone in to see Lizbeth like she’d been asked. But Rorey wasn’t one to do what she was asked at the expense of a night out. She pulled on her coat, hugged Emmie, and then turned to me.

  “Buck up, Sarah. Maybe Frank’ll have this out of his system before June. And if not, well, at least he’s working. Sure hope it isn’t too big a debt.”

  Bert nudged her and shook his head. “It’ll all come out fine. Frank’s heart’s in the right place. He’s bound to make good.”

  I was surprised Bert would say that, but I appreciated it, and so did my mother.

  “I’m certain of it,” she added. “There’s no reason to speak negatively. God has a purpose in all things, and I expect Frank and Sarah to be blessed.”

  “Funny name for a town,” Rorey remarked. “Camp Point.”

  Eugene took her hand and they proceeded out the door with a chuckle. I ignored the comment and didn’t bother with a quick good-bye. Emmie thought they might stop here again in the morning before they left for St. Louis, but I knew they wouldn’t. They were too busy thinking about themselves and their own fun to bother.

  I hardly knew what to do with myself that afternoon. It seemed that life had flown out of control and there was nothing left but a whirlwind of circumstances. Frank so far away. Rorey’s foolishness. Donald Mueller.

  Emmie and I tried to be cheerful, but she seemed to be having as much trouble as I was. “I miss Frank so much already,” she admitted. “I’m gonna miss him all the more after the wedding. And you too.”

  I knew she would, so I told her what Frank had said, that she could come up there with us if she wanted to. I understood now what Frank had meant when he said that having his kid sister along would be different, even if he needed to be away from the rest of the family. Emmie was only fifteen and without her parents. She wouldn’t think he was leaning on others. She’d be leaning on him.

  Katie seemed to realize that today working on my wedding dress was not the thing to do to ease my mind. She seemed at a loss, but Mom got us started making cookies. Snickerdoodles and date rounds and oatmeal raisin drops. Dozens of them. We’d send Frank a package, and Willy too. Bert started a letter at the kitchen table, to keep Willy informed, but he was reluctant to include details about Rorey’s marriage plans.

  “Maybe she’ll change her mind,” he suggested hopefully.

  “Not if she has any inkling that we want her to,” Emmie replied.

  “She does,” Harry said. “Kirk let her have it in no uncertain terms this morning and she cussed him good. Glad you all weren’t there.”

  Emmie shook her head. “But she thinks it’s all right to tell Sarah to reconsider.”

  “That’s Rorey for you,” Bert concluded, and turned back to his letter.

  He and Harry wolfed down as many of the cookies as my mother would allow. And while I busily kept shaping more, my mind wandered to Frank again. What would he be doing tonight? Was the Lord truly at work in this decision? To what end?

  “Blessed assurance,” I started to sing as I got another cookie tray ready for the oven. “Jesus is mine! Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine . . .”

  Katie joined me with her soft voice. And Mom turned toward both of us and smiled.

  “Heir of salvation, purchase of God, born of his Spirit, washed in his blood . . .”

  22

  Frank

  I hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast with Mr. Willings, and it was getting into the evening now, so I went to Miller’s restaurant on the square for a sandwich. I would have gone back to my room then, but I had the feeling I oughta check on Mr. Willings again. He’d looked so feeble, maybe on account of the grief. I just wanted to ask him if there was anything else I could do.

  But he wasn’t alone at the house that time, and I didn’t want to intrude. About then I realized what I guessed I’d known all day and never thought about. This’d be the night for midweek service at the church. Mr. Willings hadn’t said anything otherwise, so I assumed they’d still be having a service of some kind. Maybe it wouldn’t bother nobody if I was to show up.

  I went and cleaned up again best I could. I didn’t know what time the service started so I went out early just in case with Mrs. Haywood’s pie pan, even though she’d said it was an extra and I didn’t have to return it. Nobody was there. There wasn’t moon enough to shed much light on the church, but I got to looking at the place while my headlights were still on. It could sure use a fresh coat of paint come warm weather. And the outhouse in back was standing crooked and needin’ shoring up pretty bad. One of the rails by the church steps was leanin’ out a little too.

  I wondered what they’d think if I offered to take on a little of that work. I hadn’t seen but two young families at the Sunday night services, and there wasn’t no father in attendance with one of those. But maybe that was on acco
unt of the weather lately. There might be a lot more on Sunday morning. But what I’d seen of the church folks so far was more old people than young. Maybe they could use the help.

  I walked around the snowy church grounds, praying for the whole congregation. I loved our pastor back home in Dearing. It’d be an awful blow to lose him, so I knew this congregation might be feeling terrible heavy tonight over losing their pastor.

  If the good Lord willed, I could see myself helping these people at least some of the time. But it was easier to think of painting or shoring up the outhouse walls than doing more preaching. I wasn’t sure my speaking oughta be called preaching at all. Sharing, maybe. Or just bringin’ a few thoughts out of the Scriptures for folks to consider. I didn’t fiery preach, like Pastor Jones back home. I didn’t get so carried into the message that it seemed it wasn’t just me talking no more, the way it was with him.

  Oh, but that’d be a joy, I suddenly thought. To know beyond any doubt that it ain’t just me. To feel what Pastor Jones calls the “unction” working inside.

  I wondered how it was with Sarah’s brother Robert. Strangely enough, I’d never heard him speak. He’d only done it twice in the States. He’d been called straight to the mission field. And just a little, way down deep, I envied him ’cause he knew he was called, beyond a doubt. ’Cause he was able to go so far and be so sure of himself in serving the Lord among folks he’d never seen before.

  Is that what you want outta me, Lord? Here?

  I imagine it must’ve seemed strange to the first folks who pulled in to find me walking around the churchyard in the dark. I didn’t have no way to explain myself. I just went inside and sat down quiet in the back row. I was still thinking on Robert and his wife going to serve the Lord in the Pacific islands. I’d a’ loved to join ’em, but I didn’t figure I had much to offer.

  Lord, use me. Somehow. I know I may be an odd kind a’ vessel, maybe with some damages needin’ repair, but you made me for a purpose. Use me however you see fit.