by Leisha Kelly
“She needs the Lord too,” I said softly, feeling miserable to let him think I was handling things better than he was.
“I know she does,” he answered. “You work on that, if you can, Sarah Jean, tellin’ her ’bout the Lord an’ his love for her. And I’ll try, okay? I’ll work on my brothers and even Eugene if I get a chance. It can be our project. Like a gift we give God at our weddin’ time, even if we feel like doin’ something else.”
“I like that.” I could see the passion beneath the surface of Frank’s stormy eyes, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to withhold things from him any longer.
“I don’t think God faults us for our feelings,” he said quietly. “It’s what we do about them that counts.”
He looked down the lane toward Dave and Katie in the distance and then took my hand. “Maybe we should join them.”
But I held back. “Frank . . . there’s something else I should tell you.”
Immediately I felt guilty. His eyes dramatically changed, and I realized that even with all his strength and accomplishments, Frank was painfully vulnerable. He looked afraid—that I could still doubt him, or maybe even reject him. I drew him close and held him tight. “I love you.”
“I know. At least I always did believe it so.”
“Don’t ever question that, please?” I looked up into his eyes again. “You mean more to me than anyone but the Lord himself, and I want to make sure you know that.”
He drew a deep breath. “I feel the same ’bout you. But . . . but what was you needin’ to say?”
“I didn’t want to upset you. I didn’t want to be a bother and make you think you needed to come down here and see to something that was really nothing at all.”
“What?”
I hesitated, scared of hurting his feelings or giving him another burden when it was already hard enough about Rorey. But I couldn’t hold back now. “Did Dad say anything about Donald Mueller?”
I wasn’t sure what I was seeing in him. Sadness, anger, or confusion. But not quite any of those. “No,” he answered simply. His grip on my hand tightened.
“H-he was bothering me for a while with letters, trying to get me to go out with him or meet and talk.”
“How many letters?” Frank’s face looked set, hard to read.
“Five, I think. I only opened the first because he hadn’t put his name on the outside. Mom read one of the others, but I threw the rest away still in the envelopes. I just thought you’d want me to tell you.”
“How long ago was this?”
Again, I hesitated. “The first letter came about the time you left.”
He looked past me to the sky. “So did you meet with him?”
My heart almost stopped. “I wouldn’t do that. Not on purpose. He showed up twice when I went to town with Dad, but I didn’t want to talk to him. I didn’t want to see him.”
“Then what was it?”
“What do you mean?”
“Your feelings ’bout it all. I see somethin’ in you. I’m not sure what.”
I could scarcely breathe. “Franky—”
“Was you considerin’?”
“No! Why would you think that?”
“You didn’t wanna tell me. You don’t wanna show your whole heart . . .”
How could I deny? Frank could read me like other people read an open book. What could I answer? He was hurt. Not by my words, but by what I didn’t say. The hesitation. The turmoil he must be seeing in my eyes. “Frank, I was struggling with things in my head, about not wanting to leave here and go so far . . .”
I told him everything. About the temptation, my dreams, my doubts. I told him about Donald at the service station and in front of the café, and my promise to God to trust. I was crying before I got halfway through, and his eyes misted as he listened, still holding my hand.
“I never wanted anything to do with Donald. It isn’t that. I was just so afraid of facing a strange place. But now I’ve been scared for you to see how weak I am. You’ve been serving the Lord while I’ve been nothing but a big baby over the thought of moving. There’s so much that’s wrong with me, Frank. Sometimes I think you’d be better off with somebody else.”
He held me, kissed the top of my head. “Everybody has misgivin’s, Sarah. An’ weak times. Most every day I wonder what you’d want with me.”
I had to look up at him. “You’ve been faithful. But I—”
“You been tested. Remember what I said—that God don’t fault us our feelings, just how we act on ’em. You didn’t ask for Donald’s nose in things. You didn’t go out with him. You decided to stay with silly ol’ me.”
“I decided to stay with the blessing of God. And you’re such a big part of that.”
“You was brave. To let me buy that place despite how you was feeling. If you’d tol’ me all this, I’d a’ come home.”
“I know.”
He leaned and kissed me. “Then quit worryin’. Okay? You made your choice. ’Long as you’re still happy with it, I guess we’ll be okay.”
“I am. Very happy.”
A fox ran across the field in front of us, and I could hear a hoot owl somewhere nearby. “I wonder what come into Donald’s head to try with you,” Frank said softly.
“I don’t know. I think I’m downright rude to him. I wasn’t sure how else to be.”
“I think you done fine.”
I wondered if I should tell him about Rorey’s letter. It was the only thing I hadn’t said. I didn’t want him angry with her on top of his concern, but I didn’t want any more secrets either. “Frank, Rorey thought it’d be a good idea for me to see someone else.”
“She said that? Recent?”
“Couple of months ago. In a letter.”
He sighed. “Well. I guess I ain’t worthy of you in her eyes.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
He smiled. “I’m glad you think so.”
I felt like a load had been lifted from my shoulders, and in the moonlight Frank was looking more at peace too. He took my hand, and we walked on in the direction Dave and Katie had gone. I thought they would surely be inside by now, but they were waiting on the porch when we got back to the house. To my surprise, Frank confessed our struggle about Rorey and asked them for prayer.
“I can talk to Kirk,” Dave suggested. “I’ll try to cool his head a little. Fighting anybody’s not gonna help matters.”
Mom and Rorey were still working on the dress when we went in, but Mrs. Post had gone home. Frank and Dave had a cup of tea and then walked back to the other farm. Katie and I got back to sewing for a little while. But first I went to Rorey and gave her a hug. Frank was right. Despite our own feelings, we could give the Lord a gift: to love her. To try to win her, and Eugene, to the light of God’s love.
28
Frank
The next morning I had a feelin’ a’ dread I tried hard to shake. Mrs. Wortham’s picnic idea was a fine one. None of us’d spent much time with Dave, or Eugene, and it’d been awhile since we’d had opportunity to be with Rorey. But I had a feelin’ the day wasn’t gonna go smooth as planned, so I prayed there wouldn’t be no hard feelings, no drinking, and no trouble.
It was a beautiful Saturday, exactly a week from our wedding day. I was glad for Lizbeth to come out early and talk with Harry and Bert. She would a’ talked to Kirk too, but he was off with Dave the whole morning.
Emmie’d been busy making cakes for the picnic. She loved to cook, and her food was some of the best around, but she must’ve been feeling some of the same concern I was. She told me an’ Lizbeth that she wasn’t lookin’ forward to this picnic, not like she knew she should.
“It’s good to have Rorey home,” she said almost tearfully. “But I don’t feel like I know her anymore. It’s almost like she grew up someplace else.”
“She’s not done with the growin’ up,” Lizbeth observed. “We just need to love her all we can.”
Emmie made a face. “I s’pose that means we have to love
Eugene too?”
“That’ll help.” Lizbeth looked at me. “And I know we’re up to the challenge.”
I took a deep breath, trying to chase away the awkward feeling I had inside. She was right. We were s’posed to love Eugene, challenge or not. Despite the past, the present, or anything else. But it was hard, rememberin’ him and his brothers throwing mud globs at me after school, and especially thinking about Rorey now. What would her future be like if they continued without the Lord?
We took the wagon out to the pond for the picnic so Lizbeth’s little girl Mary Jane could ride and we could haul along everything we could think of that we might need. Emmie’s cakes, blankets to spread on the ground, Lizbeth’s coleslaw and sweet pickles, cooked eggs, extra bread, two buckets of fresh water, and plenty of dishes and such. When we got there, Eugene and his friends hadn’t come yet, and Rorey, Sarah, and Mrs. Wortham were still back at the house waiting for them.
“Maybe they won’t come,” Harry suggested.
“If they do, I oughta have paper and pen along,” Bert put in. “This picnic could get int’resting enough for mention in the Times Leader.”
Despite his young years, Bert contributed regular to the local newspaper, but I figured he was kiddin’ us about this. Lizbeth and Emmie spread out everything that was already brought. Katie and Dave headed back to the Worthams’ just to see if they needed help carrying anything.
We didn’t have to wait long. Rorey and Eugene came walkin’ arm in arm, and their friends Max and Carol were the same way, only Carol didn’t look too comfortable traipsin’ through the timber in her fancy dress and high heels. I was glad Sarah was sensible enough to know that everyday clothes and flat shoes were better for a picnic.
We had enough food to feed an army. Eugene stared down at it all like he didn’t know what to do.
“Come and sit,” Lizbeth invited them. “I think we have blanket space for everybody.”
Carol didn’t look pleased, but she obliged without sayin’ anything, slowly maneuvering herself onto the nearest blanket. Max sat behind her and she leaned back against him. Rorey and Eugene sat beside them, and when Rorey leaned into him, Eugene gave her a kiss on the cheek. That was awkward to see, ’cause he looked so much like Lester and I could remember Lester kissing Rorey. It didn’t seem so awful long ago, and I wondered how much Rorey thought about that. Hopefully not a lot, ’cause it’d prob’ly make her sad. She’d been convinced she was in love with Lester. And now Eugene. I hoped she really understood what she was doing.
Everything went fine through eatin’, and then some a’ the group went swimmin’ in the pond. It was all so peaceful that Mr. and Mrs. Wortham went back to the house with some of the dishes. Nobody got riled till Eugene brought his dripping wet self to the blanket where I was sitting with Sarah and asked how long I figured it’d be ’fore she had her fill a’ me.
I could almost see the steam rising in Sarah’s eyes, but I squeezed her hand and answered before she got the chance. “I ’spect the Lord’ll take care of us an’ we’ll manage together fine. I hope the same for your marriage.”
He smiled big. “Do you now?”
Kirk stepped up. My brother’d taunted me plenty over the years and let other boys do the same, but it was clear he wasn’t fixin’ to let Eugene by with it today. Harry and Bert got out of the water. Dave was watchin’ close, and so was Lizbeth.
“I wish the best for my sister,” I said. “I’ll be prayin’ for both of you.”
Eugene tilted his head a little, way too cocky to stop and think about me having three brothers close by. His voice came out hard, just like I was used to.
“An’ why do you think we’re ’specially needin’ your prayers, Mr. Retard-Holier-Than-Thou?”
That was enough for Kirk. He got hold on Eugene’s wet clothes and threw him to the dirt path. “Get outta here! You don’t walk on our farm and insult my family!”
“Kirk,” Sarah suddenly spoke up. “He surely didn’t mean it. Probably just an old habit.”
Eugene stared at her.
“You know, like biting fingernails or twirling hair,” she went on. “We all know how Eugene used to tease Frank, like so many other boys around here. Maybe he can’t help it if he hasn’t been able to outgrow it.”
Kirk smiled. “Maybe you’re right. Takes some people longer’n others t’ grow up.”
Eugene was frowning, and Rorey had turned red as a beet.
“Frank was just saying how he hopes the best for you both, Eugene,” Sarah said sweetly. “We’ll gladly continue praying for you always, and we’d be happy to receive your prayers as well.”
“Him?” Max laughed. “Pray?”
“Shut up,” Rorey told him.
“You never know who the Lord’ll see fit to touch and use.” Sarah smiled.
Eugene moved away from Kirk and went to shove Max back into the water.
“He oughta apologize,” Harry said.
But Lizbeth shook her head. “Let it go.”
Sarah had cooled the fires, even in herself. I was proud. And things got almost back to normal. But the picnic didn’t last much longer, at least for Eugene and his friends. Minutes later, they decided to go get a change of clothes and go bowling. Eugene was disappointed when Rorey told him she needed to stay and work on her dress. To everybody’s surprise, he asked Katie and Dave to join them, but Kate said she was going to be sewing with Rorey, and Dave declined so he could spend the rest of the afternoon haying with Kirk.
I joined them at the work, along with Harry and Bert. Seemed like old times, us brothers working side by side like that. Only instead of Dave with us, it oughta have been Sam. Or Joe.
“Good thing Willy wasn’t here today,” Bert observed. “He’d a’ lit into Eugene quicker’n we could do anything about it.”
“Are you kiddin’?” Harry said with a sideways glance at me. “Maybe he’d agree with him. He’s said plenty a’ things about Franky his own self.”
“If you said it he might go along, yeah,” Bert went on. “But not comin’ from Eugene. You remember after the fire. That was some fight, and Willy’s said more’n once he’d like another chance at the Turrey boys.”
“That was years back,” I told them. “A lot has happened. Willy’s grown up in the service. He served with Lester for a while. His feelings is bound to have changed.”
“About Lester, yeah. But not Eugene. He was mad about him runnin’ off with Rorey. It wasn’t honor to Lester’s memory nor to our family, especially so soon.”
Words slowed as we progressed with the work needin’ done, but I took to praying in my head for Willy and the weddings next week. Too bad Robert wasn’t here. He’d always had a good influence on Willy. Kirk had let Sarah’s words stop him, but I wasn’t sure Willy’d do the same.
29
Sarah
On Monday morning, Frank drove me to Dearing to pick up the shoes I’d ordered and choose a pair for himself. I’d only been in Hollstetter’s new shoe store once before, with Mom, to pick out the style to go with my dress. Frank wasn’t keen on new shoes. He was comfortable with his old boots, but I’d insisted he needed a nice new pair for the wedding. He went to the men’s section to try some on while I talked to Mrs. Hollstetter.
“Oh yes, they’ve come in,” she told me. “I left them in back so we wouldn’t sell them by mistake. I need to be leaving for an appointment, but I’ll have my sales assistant bring them right up.”
She disappeared, and I occupied myself looking at a display of purses made to match shoe colors. The store was quiet, and I was just thinking of joining Frank by the men’s shoes when I heard a sudden noise behind me. Before I could turn around, strong arms grabbed me. Donald Mueller. He gripped my arms and leaned his face at mine, trying to force a kiss. I struggled, but I couldn’t pull myself out of his grasp.
And then I heard another noise—the clunk of something hitting the floor. Frank was around the corner of the display in a second, and he lit into Donald faster than
I’d seen anybody move. I’d never seen Frank fight. He hadn’t even been close to getting mad over Eugene’s spiteful words at the picnic. But he hit Donald, and he hit him hard. Donald fell back against a rack of shoes, and Frank turned his attention to me.
That was the first I noticed that Donald was wearing a vest with the store name on it. He was the sales assistant Mrs. Hollstetter had sent me. I felt like fleeing, even without my wedding shoes.
“Are you all right?” Frank was asking.
I nodded, still too stunned to speak.
“I just wanted to talk to her,” Donald stammered, holding his jaw.
“That was no talk,” Frank said fiercely. “Do you want me to call the law, Sarah?”
I stared at him, unable to answer for a moment. I didn’t think Frank had ever hit anyone. In all the years I’d known him. Not when he’d been so cruelly teased or even when Lester Turrey beat on him and blamed him for the barn fire. But he’d never had to defend me before.
Slowly, I shook my head. “W-we don’t have to call the law if he promises never to touch me again.”
Frank was doubtful. “You sure you’re all right?”
“Yes. I just want my shoes.”
Donald stared up at both of us, still holding his jaw. It looked like he had a bump over one eye too.
“You heard her,” Frank demanded. “Where’s the shoes we ordered?”
Donald pointed to the display across the aisle from the purses. He must have seen me and set them down there, maybe thinking there was no one else in the store.
Frank picked up the shoes and took my arm. Donald pulled himself to his feet, still staring at us.
“You won’t be gettin’ up so easy if you ever come near her again,” Frank told him. “An’ you’ll have a jail cell waitin’. You owe her an apology. Right now.”
“I’m sorry,” Donald muttered, looking pale. He would never have imagined Frank rushing so strongly to my rescue. And I hated to think what might have happened if Frank hadn’t been there.
