by DiAnn Mills
Curiosity etched across her face. She took the package and carefully opened it. “A journal,” she whispered. “I used to keep one, but I stopped when Lydia Anne was born.”
“I encouraged Zack to write down all the things he remembered about his father. I thought it might help him work through his grief.”
“Mama suggested the same thing right after Ben left us, but I couldn’t bring myself to pen a single word.” She glanced up with watery eyes. “Since a couple of years have passed, I believe I can. Thank you. This gift came at just the right time.”
Her smile warmed his heart. The cost of the journals had dug into his meager funds, but her kind words were worth any price. And if it helped her, then he’d be blessed with her healing.
Now, if Zack could only try harder. In moments when Travis wondered if he could ever help the boy, he realized Zack didn’t want help—not yet anyway. He’d grown accustomed to his miserable life. The boy needed to find a reason to change, a task that only God could do.
“Guess I’ll be going,” she said.
The sound of her voice caused a sweet shiver to race up his arms. He remembered when she had touched his arm at the Morning Star. This had to stop. “I’ll walk you to your buggy.”
The back door opened and Zack stepped onto the porch. His hands dug deep into his overall pockets. “Thanks for bringing the pie, Mama. It smells real good.”
Thank You, Lord.
*****
Travis had waited long enough to announce the forming of a choir. He’d been excited about the idea, especially with Jenny Andrews playing piano. But now as he listened to the off-key men and women, he wondered what God meant by “making a joyful noise.” He thought he’d endured it all until Miss Scott, Zack’s former teacher, said she’d like to sing a hymn on Sunday morning.
“Most certainly,” he said. “What would you like to sing?”
“‘Amazing Grace.’”
“Wonderful. Mrs. Andrews, would you mind playing that beautiful hymn for us? We’d all like to be blessed with Miss Scott’s song.”
One note, and Travis thought she might be a bit flustered singing in front of him and the choir. The second note made him wonder if she was getting even for what Zack had done to her clothes. On the third note, he stopped her.
“Let’s start again, Miss Scott. Just relax.”
“I am, Brother Whitworth. I believe this is my best.”
I hope not. He might lose his church if she sang this Sunday. By the time she finished the first verse, his head pounded, and the good folks in the choir were either hiding their laughter or their faces were lined with agony.
When she completed all the verses, he didn’t know whether to pray for mercy or thank God the song was over. He’d heard coyotes with better voices.
“So I’ll sing this Sunday?” Miss Scott wrung her hands.
“Well . . .”
Jenny Andrews rose from the piano. “Oh, please, not this Sunday. I need time to practice. I would feel terrible if your song sounded badly because of me.”
“When do you think you’ll be ready?” Miss Scott lifted her chin.
“A few weeks, at least.”
In a huff, Miss Scott resumed her position in the choir. One man wiped his face with a handkerchief. Another coughed. Mrs. Rainer mouthed, “I’m sorry.”
Suddenly Miss Scott stood. Travis hadn’t noticed how plain the poor woman was. Sympathy for her touched him. “Brother Whitworth, I thank you for this opportunity to share my gift of voice. I had doubts about your ability to lead this church with taking in Zack Kahler and all, but your willingness to let me sing proves your true heart. My daddy always said my singing lifted his spirits.” She abruptly sat down.
“Thank you, Miss Scott. We’ll look forward to your solo once Mrs. Andrews learns her part.”
“Why not sing with her?” Mrs. Rainer said. “I think our church would be blessed with two fine voices.”
If Jocelyn Rainer hadn’t been the reverend’s wife, he’d have considered letting Zack swipe her laundry.
“I’m not sure if that would be fair. Michael Paul Kahler and I plan to sing a duet,” he said.
“But adults should be first,” Miss Scott said. “This way, Michael Paul can hear how to reach the difficult notes. I could work with him after school if you’d like.”
Travis nearly choked. “Thank you for your kind offer, but I was looking forward to rehearsing with the boy since his brother is in my charge. Surely you understand.”
He was trapped, and the whole choir knew it. All manner of common sense had raced out with the church mice. Why ever had he wanted to form a choir? Then his gaze touched on the three young women from Heaven’s Gate. They neither laughed nor looked uncomfortable. They understood humiliation. They’d lived it. Sylvia Hillman draped her arm around Rosie’s shoulders. From what he’d heard about the problems in Mrs. Hillman’s marriage, she understood humiliation too. God could heal all of their hurts if they simply let him wrap His love around their aching hearts.
“I look forward to your song, Miss Scott,” he said. “If your singing blessed your father, then I’m sure it will bless all of us who are privy to the song. I play piano a little, so if you’d like to rehearse here in the church, I’d be glad to help you.”
“We could tonight after regular rehearsal.”
He smiled. “That would be fine.”
*****
Travis thought he might not live through Miss Scott’s repeated variations of “Amazing Grace.” As much as he hated to admit it, her voice sounded like chalk scraping across a blackboard. Other choir members milled about in the back of the church.
“Let’s simply listen to the melody before you begin,” he said. “I know you want every note to be perfect.”
“And it’s not?” Miss Scott said.
“We all aim for perfection when it comes to the Lord.”
Miss Scott stood straight, then closed the hymnal. “I don’t need to see the words and notes. I have them memorized.”
Travis inwardly cringed. “A little review is always good.”
“If you insist.” She stepped beside him at the piano bench and smiled—far too sweetly. He’d seen that look before, and it made him want to run like a scared rabbit.
“I appreciate this,” she said.
“You’re welcome.”
He started to play the melody, but she stopped him.
“Would you like to come one night for dinner?” she said.
Please, I’m not husband material. “How thoughtful of you, but my evenings are spent with Zack.”
“He couldn’t stay by himself one evening?” She brushed against his shoulders while he remained seated on the piano bench.
“Miss Scott, it would not look appropriate if I came to your home for dinner. Neither of us would want gossip.”
“I could invite another couple to join us.”
“I’m sorry, but I must decline.”
“Zack has told you horrible things about me.” She sounded like a hurt little girl.
“No, ma’am. I’m simply not interested in social engagements.”
“I shall practice my song on my own. For a man who is not interested in social engagements, you certainly find the time to visit with Bonnie Kahler.” Miss Scott whirled around and headed toward the back of the church.
A twinge of guilt rushed over him at the mention of Mrs. Kahler’s name. Had anyone else noticed the time he spent with her? Surely not. He was only doing the Lord’s work in helping her and Zack. He stared after Miss Scott. He didn’t understand women and doubted if he ever would.
Chapter 15
Bonnie realized nearly four weeks had gone by since Zack had gone to live with Brother Travis, and finally tonight the two were coming to dinner. She’d given Juanita the after
noon and evening free so she herself could prepare chicken and dumplings. From what Bonnie had seen, Juanita and Thomas planned a picnic. Wedding bells would be ringing soon. Bonnie was sure of it.
A hot apple pie sat cooling in the pie safe, and fresh cream brimmed a pitcher, ready to be poured over the dessert. Bonnie wanted everything to be perfect. She’d been told her son had been practicing good manners, and Brother Travis said his schoolwork was exceptional.
But what about Zack’s relationship with her and his brother and sister? She’d love to see the three of them laughing and teasing like they used to—before Ben left them. The closer the time came for their arrival, the more nervous she became. Her stomach felt like a band of crickets had taken residence.
Stop it. Dinner will be fine. Surely she’d see progress with Zack this evening. He’d spoken to her at church and thanked her for the pie last week.
“They’re here,” Michael Paul called. “Looks like they borrowed Grandpa’s buggy.”
Bonnie took a deep breath and untied her apron. All the food had been prepared to Zack’s liking, and the table was set. If only she’d stop shaking.
Zack spoke little during dinner, but what he said displayed pleasant conversation. She’d always be grateful to Brother Travis.
“Are you coming home soon?” Lydia Anne said.
Bonnie cringed. She should have instructed the little girl not to question her brother about an uncomfortable situation.
“I don’t think so.” Zack peered up at his mother. “Brother Travis says I have lots of bothersome things inside me, and I reckon he’s right. I’m mad most of the time.”
“At me?” Lydia Anne said in her sweet little voice. “Michael Paul?”
“Hush,” Bonnie said. “Be glad your brother is with us tonight.” Heat engulfed her face. She understood his anger was aimed at her. How could she blame him?
A heavy pause separated every person at the table. Bonnie longed to bring her family back together, to see Zack the carefree boy she remembered before Ben died. She gazed into the face of her troubled son. “I’d like to send back a couple of fishing poles with you tonight.”
He said nothing.
“Fine idea,” Travis said. “We’ve been talking a lot about fishing, and I could use a couple of poles.”
“Living with Brother Whitworth must be fun,” Michael Paul said. “Going fishin’ and not having to sit in school all day long.”
Zack scowled, and Bonnie sensed the rebellion from a few weeks prior about to spring on them all like a cat upon a mouse.
“I don’t think the amount of school work I give Zack is enjoyable,” Travis said. “The reading and math are harder, plus we’ve started Latin. His geography lessons are for students two to three years older.”
Thank you, Brother Travis.
“I can speak for myself.” Zack tossed his napkin on the table. “I don’t know what is worse, abidin’ by the preacher’s rules or being sent off to military school.”
“We could find out, but I’d rather not.” In the past, Bonnie would have done anything to keep peace and not confront Zack with his rudeness.
“I think you’re looking for an excuse to get rid of me for good.”
She moistened her lips and placed her trembling hands in her lap. “Whatever made you say such a thing?”
“’Cause I look like Papa, and you wouldn’t be reminded of him.”
“That sounds like an excuse to have you stay,” she said.
Zack glared into her face, and she battled wits with her gaze. She dared not let him overpower her in an argument. He must learn to respect her and other adults. She smiled at him, then at Brother Travis. Somehow the brief focus on the man’s kind face momentarily settled her uneasiness. Please stop, Zack. Can’t you see I love you?
She placed her napkin beside her plate. “I believe we’re ready for warm pie and cream.”
“Would you like some help?” Brother Travis said.
“She doesn’t need any. That’s what Juanita is for,” Zack said.
“Juanita is not here this evening. I cooked dinner. How about helping me serve pie, Zack?” Her heart thumped against her chest until it hurt. How far had she sunk to fear her own son?
“Grand idea,” Brother Travis said.
“I can help you,” Michael Paul said.
Bonnie turned to her middle son. “Thank you, but I’d like Zack’s help.”
He must have wanted the pie more than he wanted to release anger and rebellion toward her, because Zack scooted his chair legs back across the wooden floor. Inside the kitchen, she pulled out plates from the cupboard.
“How about I cut the pie and you ladle on the cream?”
“Why?”
“Cream is excellent with apple pie.”
“You know what I mean. Why did you ask me to come in here?”
She drew a knife through the pie. “We could use clean forks and spoons, please.”
He opened the drawer and drew out the silverware. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“I asked for your help because I miss you—not the angry son who gets into trouble but the son who can be a joy.”
“That’s Michael Paul—the do-gooder.”
She bit back a remark as ugly as she’d heard from him. Instead she handed him a piece of pie ready for cream. “After you top this, kindly take it to Brother Travis. And I do know the difference between you and Michael Paul.”
She turned to slice another piece, and he disappeared into the dining room. A moment later, Michael Paul took Zack’s place in the kitchen.
Would the situation between her and Zack ever improve? She prayed night and day for it to be so. She refused to give up. Their relationship had to get better.
*****
Travis had to chew on his words to keep from laying into Zack. He deserved a trip to the woodshed, but that wasn’t Travis’s position. Neither was he convinced that type of punishment would soften Zack’s heart. The troubled boy acted as though he wanted to be left alone, yet Travis sensed a deep need for reconciliation with his mother. In the beginning, he had thought Zack blamed himself for his father’s untimely death. Many children did. Tonight he realized Zack’s pain and anger came from another source. Something deeper that he hadn’t been able to reveal.
“Why are you so angry with your mother?”
“You don’t want to know. Everyone thinks Bonnie Kahler is this pretty sweet lady who never does anything wrong. Oh, feel sorry for the Widow Kahler. She’s all alone since her husband died.” He blew out an exasperated sigh.
“I’d like to hear. Maybe I can help.”
Silence. The mare moved toward Kahlerville, pulling against the leather harness, each step rhythmic with the night sounds.
“Zack, I’m your friend, and I’m not going to think any less of you or your mother with what you’re upset about.”
“It’s about my father.”
“I figured as much. Go on with it.”
In the shadows of the lanterns lit on both sides of the buggy, Zack’s shoulders lifted and fell. “I heard Uncle Morgan and Uncle Grant talking before Papa died. Uncle Grant said if Papa moved to Arizona, his lungs would get better. Uncle Morgan asked why he didn’t go.” Zack picked at the knee of his overalls. “Uncle Grant said Papa refused. Said he wouldn’t drag my mama away from her family. That she couldn’t handle life alone.”
“I see.”
“So Papa died because Mama is too selfish to think of anyone but herself.”
“Do you mind if I tell her about this?”
“No. I nearly did tonight in the kitchen.”
Travis picked up the mare’s pace. He hoped this could be explained away. If not, it might take years for Zack to forgive his mother.
*****
; Travis knocked on the door of Grant and Jenny Andrews’s home, a stately, well-kept house. He particularly admired the huge oaks shading its bricked walls like soldiers guarding a fortress. Unlike the trees near his Tennessee home, these trees still held on to their leaves. The reverend had told him winters were much milder and the number of frosts could be counted on his fingers.
Glancing at Zack, who’d wanted to stay at home, he resisted the urge to clap a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“I know what you’re going to talk to Uncle Grant about, and I’d rather not be around,” Zack had said earlier.
“I understand, but if you heard wrong, then we need to get this straightened out between you and your mama.”
Zack shook his head. “Nothing will change. I know what I heard. Uncle Grant may lie to protect her. I’ll never shelter Lydia Anne the way my uncles and my real grandpa did to Mama.”
“Are you sure they did?”
“I heard my uncles say so, but Uncle Grant didn’t. Just Uncle Morgan and my other grandpa.”
“Zack, sometimes when folks love someone, they want to protect them from all that could harm them. Your mama looks frail with her small stature, and she appears to be much younger than other women her age.”
Now, as they waited for Grant to open the door, Zack eyed Travis curiously and started to speak, but at that moment the door opened.
The Andrews’s housekeeper, Miss Mimi, a round woman with a smile and a warm hug for everyone, greeted them at the door and ushered them inside to the parlor. The elegance of the room in rich emerald green and gold furnishings made Travis want to leave his shoes at the door.
“Good morning, Brother Whitworth and Zack. How can I help you today?”
“We’re here to see Grant if he’s not too busy,” Travis said.
“Is one of you feelin’ poorly?” Miss Mimi leaned toward them as if she could offer ready sympathy.
“No, ma’am. God’s blessed both of us with good health.”
She nodded at Zack. “And how are you?”
“Very well, thank you.”
Thank you for your manners. Travis had too much on his mind to discipline the boy. Bonnie Kahler’s family and problems had settled on him of late, and he longed for her and the children to be happy.
