by M. Mabie
The water sound was coming from the washing machine and upon stretching my neck, I noticed the dryer was running too. After sitting up, I noted all my shoes were lined up on the island on top of newspapers.
“What are you doing?” I asked as I rose from the couch, scratching my beard and stretching my sore muscles.
I startled her, and she spun around. “I’m making you...” Immediately, her eyes grew large, and her mouth hung open, then she turned back around. “...eggs.”
I was only wearing my boxer shorts, something I would have taken off to sleep only a day ago. One glance down myself, I realized I needed my pants and reached for them on the back of the sofa. I wondered if she’d ever seen an almost naked man—in the morning—or ever. Pants were appropriate, but I opted for no shirt.
Part of adjusting to the real world would be seeing people. People who weren’t hiding their bodies under layers of fabric all the time. People who were comfortable in their skin, and I wanted to be an example of that. I wanted her to—on her own and in her own time—feel good about dressing and showing what she felt comfortable with. As trivial as it seemed to me now, it had been quite a shock when I’d first left.
I picked up my phone and slipped it into my back pocket. It was only a little after six thirty, but later than I usually slept.
What time had she woken up? And in the small number of things she’d brought with her, had she really packed an apron?
Myra put the egg sandwich on a folded napkin on the counter, and when I rounded it, she moved like she was getting out of my way, taking a seat on the wobbly barstool. From the cabinet, I retrieved the filters and the tin of coffee.
It was too early in the day to contend with her about what was going on with my shoes, but as I ran the cold water for my coffee, I caught her scrubbing one of my boots, watching what I was doing too. I continued, knowing it was only another thing that day that would be different for her.
As the maker brewed, I examined a pair of my older boots that I’d intended on pitching. They were still worn and tattered, but the leather looked revived and, except for the deeper scuffs, they appeared useful again.
Her eyes continued to glance at the coffee pot as it bubbled and spat into the clear glass container.
“I drink caffeine.”
I hadn’t asked her a question, and she didn’t reply. She just worked. Her eyes were tired-looking like they had been the day before when I visited her, but her nimble hands cleaned and wiped at the stitching around the sole, and her breathing was deep and fast.
After I filled my mug, I pointed to the footwear as I took a drink. She peeked at me from under her long, thick lashes. “You should have clean feet and shoes.”
I should have known, and for whatever reason, I quoted, “Well reported of for good works; if she have brought up children, if she have lodged strangers, if she have washed the saints’ feet, if she have relieved afflicted, if she have diligently followed every good work.”
Prettily, she smiled, beamed, and it was annoying that reciting bible verses was the only thing that had made her light up like that since she’d left Lancaster. She was free, but that community had been her only home, and their ways had been all she’d ever known. Vaguely, I recalled my mother and grandmother cleaning the men’s shoes when I was younger.
It would take time.
“Yes,” she answered and proudly finished the other boot.
“Did you eat?”
Still grinning, she nodded that she hadn’t. I removed the pairs she was finished with and brought the sandwich she’d made to her at the bar. “You eat this. I like my eggs runny.”
After refilling my cup, I turned the burner on under the warm skillet and cracked the last three eggs into the pan. When they were done, I took the butt-ends of bread with me to bar to eat.
When she saw I was eating out of the skillet, which I did a lot, she pressed her hands to the bar top to get up.
“Sit. Eat.” I dipped the bread into the eggs. On command, she sat and lifted the sandwich to her mouth.
How could someone be so obedient?
And why did I have to sound so bossy?
The answer to both was Lancaster.
I took another warm sip. “Why dirty another dish? Do you want a cup of coffee?” I didn’t have juice or even milk and really needed to go to the store. But living alone, I usually made do until I couldn’t anymore. My cabinets and refrigerator were nearly empty before I ever made the trip.
I felt yolk drop into my beard and checked behind me for something to use. I was also out of napkins now. Luckily, there was a dish towel within reach, and I rubbed it over my whiskers hoping I got it.
“I guess I need to get some stuff today when we go into town.”
She tore a piece of crust from her sandwich and stared at it. “What time is church?”
30
Myra
“I wouldn’t know. I don’t go.”
Didn’t go to church? Was he that busy working and living alone? Maybe there wasn’t a church in Fairview, but the lights surrounding the town made it seem so much bigger than Lancaster the night before.
If he didn’t attend services, how was he so knowledgeable about the Word?
He’d told me our wedding hadn’t meant anything to him, yet we were married. He was my band holder and key to Heaven. I hadn’t slept very well, and I prayed a lot, which helped because that morning I was just as committed to being a good wife to him.
I’d made those vows not only to Abraham, but to God, and I wasn’t about to go back on my word to either of them.
I’d do my part and continue to pray that Abraham would come around.
After all, regardless of how or why he married me, he was the head of his house, and I could adjust.
When my sandwich was finished, I wiped my crumbs into my hand and carried them to the trash can, which was full.
“I’ll take that out in a minute,” he said after finishing a third cup of coffee. I’d never tried the stuff. In my father’s house, it was an unnecessary stimulant. But I suppose in Abraham’s home he found the drink useful.
I’d turned down a cup of my own, but maybe I should have had one. I could have been more grateful, more open to his choices. I could be what he wanted, I’d just have to listen and try.
I’d be flexible and patient and let God deal with his heart in His time. Until then, I’d become the wife Abraham wanted.
I washed, rinsed the skillet, and dried it on the back burner on low. He had a tub of shortening in the pantry, so I use that to oil the pan.
“I’ll shower and then show you around the property.” He looked at his phone again. “We’ll head to town after that.”
In Lancaster, hardly any businesses were open on Sunday, but I supposed he knew what he was talking about.
“I’ll be ready.” I’d been dressed for the day for hours. I’d even read my morning devotionals before the sun was even up. The only thing I needed to do was take my braid out. So when he went into the bathroom, I changed the laundry and found a sheet of paper to make a list on.
He was out of many things. Mostly food, but also he was low on detergent and paper supplies. I wasn’t sure what he liked to eat, but there were a few things I could make that my father always enjoyed, and I would start with those.
By the time I had several things written down, he came out of the bathroom with wet hair, wearing a short-sleeved t-shirt. That morning had been one of the few times in my life that I’d seen a man without one on, but I wasn’t complaining.
His body was nice to look at. All of it.
“It’s going to be hot today. Do you want to wear something that might be cooler?” he asked as he slipped his clean shoes on over his socks. “What you wear is up to you.”
I only had clothes like the ones I was wearing. Sure, I had a few skirts and tops that were older and more worn, but I wore them on days when I was working in the garden or cleaning. The others were nicer and reserved for Church and other
things. I didn’t have a lot, but I didn’t need much.
I gave the front of my attire a once over.
“You look fine.” He pulled the leg of his jeans over the top of his work boot so that it lay the way he wanted. “But people outside of Lancaster don’t dress like they do there. It’s okay for you to wear shirts that show your arms. Or pants. Or shorts. Or shorter dresses. Or whatever. It’s up to you.”
I’d been told about those kinds of women. The ones who weren’t modest with their bodies. Non-believers who wore flashy clothes to lure men away from their wives. If he wanted me to wear clothes that showed more of my skin around the cabin, that was one thing, but to go out in public and show off parts of me that were only meant for him wasn’t wise. Wasn’t Godly.
“There’s a lot about how we were brought up that isn’t true.” He grabbed his wallet off the counter and opened it but continued to speak. “God loved the lepers in rags and the rich man in silk all the same. He doesn’t care what you wear or how you choose to look, and neither do I.” He thumbed through the leather trifold. “If you want, you should look at clothes today.”
“No, thank you.” I wasn’t a vain person and never gave my clothing too much weight, but he had a good point. I lived in his world now, and if he liked the look of more worldly dress, I’d consider it. But also, I didn’t need to spend money in a store. I had my sewing machine and fabric in my trunks, and I enjoyed making things for myself.
I pulled the elastic from my hair and separated the pieces over my shoulder, ready to go.
THE LAND AROUND THE cabin was beautiful. On one side, it was flat, and there was a pasture that went on and on in a valley. To the back, there were hills and trees. It was quiet and peaceful, and I could see why Abraham liked living there.
I’d always lived in town, but out there he had much more room for a garden. As I followed him to the massive shed across the driveway, I noticed he already had raspberry bushes with ripe fruit ready to pick before it went to waste.
I’d do that later.
“I spend a lot of time down here,” he told me as he heaved the overhead door open enough for us to walk under. The smell of wood was thick in the air, and there were piles of boards flanking both sides of a narrow walkway. Beyond that, there were machines and workbenches, and clamps pinched on just about every surface I saw.
“I don’t have a storefront yet, but I’ll take you by some of the places that sell for me.”
There were chairs hanging upside down from hooks overhead, and in the middle of what looked like the work area was a beautiful table. I ran my hand over the top.
“Still needs more sanding and a few layers of top coat,” he told me, but I thought it was lovely.
“You made this by hand?”
He scratched his beard again, something he did often, and looked around the open room. “Yep. Tables. Chairs. Benches. Books shelves. And hutches. Mostly. I made the cabinets inside the cabin, but I have a way to go before I try to tackle those kinds of projects for paying customers.”
He was talented. “You’re very good, Abraham.”
He grinned. “Why don’t you call me Abe?”
I walked around the long table top, admiring the craftsmanship. “Abe?”
“Yeah. I don’t like Abraham as much.”
It made me happy that he was telling me what he liked, it took the guesswork out.
“Too formal.”
“Okay.”
“That’s about it. If I’m not at the mill, then I’m usually in here. I have a few pieces I started back there that need finished and this table, but the rest of my stuff is in town.” He pointed to a dark corner on the other side, and the muscles on his arms caught my eye. All this work was probably how he got them so big. Made me wonder how he had so much time for all those books he’d collected.
The light of day made the trip into town seem much different than it had the night before. The landscape was breathtaking in the hills, and the mill we passed looked much larger than it had. It wasn’t a long drive to Fairview, but there was a lot to see.
“You can listen to the radio if you like,” he offered, but the silence wasn’t as uncomfortable as it had been on the drive from Lancaster.
“No, thank you.” I could do without and left it off. “How big is this town?” I asked instead. I didn’t drive much, but it looked a lot bigger than what I was used to. It didn’t matter because I didn’t have a car anyway, but if I ever needed to borrow Abraham’s—Abe’s—I hoped I’d be able to find my way around.
“About fifteen thousand, not too big,” he answered and made a left turn onto a busier street. I’d counted at least four churches already, their parking lots were full because it was Sunday morning, and I wondered if he’d ever went to them. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d missed a Sunday service, but a lot was going on so maybe I’d ask him to take me the following week.
He pulled into a small shopping center and climbed out. He walked to the door, and when he saw I hadn’t followed, he waved me over.
“I need to pay my bill. You don’t have a phone, do you?” I’d seen him look at his a few times that day. It was a fancy one without any buttons. None of the women I knew had their own phones, and most of the men in Lancaster all used the ones that flipped open.
“Isn’t there one in the cabin? I can use that.”
“A landline?” His laugh was deep. “No.”
“I don’t need one.” Other than my family, I didn’t have anyone to call. I could use his if he didn’t mind.
“Yes, you do. Come on.”
The store was bright and there were televisions on every wall. Displays of all kind of cell phones and I wondered why they needed so many kinds.
“Good morning,” a guy with short spiky hair said as he approached us. He looked at me head to toe and then asked, “What’s up?”
“I’m here to pay my bill, but I need to add a phone to my package.”
The salesman pulled a large screen out of a bag he had slung over his shoulder. “Cool. Cool. Cool.” He tapped on the thing. “What’s your number?”
Abraham told him, and the guy’s head bobbed along to some worldly song that was playing way too loudly.
“Looks like you’re due for an upgrade if you want. We have a sweet deal running on these, and if you add a line, I can hook you up with two for basically nothing.” He walked over to a display and pointed at some phones that looked like the one Abraham carried.
“Do you like these?” Abe asked me, handing me the display model. It was fancy and looked very hi-tech. The screen was blacked out except for a clock. I wasn’t sure if I liked it or not. The sign said it was six hundred dollars. “Press the button on the side and then swipe your finger across the screen.”
I did as he instructed, and the screen changed to a photo with a guy on it with his tongue out in the background, and there were colorful boxes all over.
Why would I want to look at that? The men watched me study it, and I shook my head and passed it to the young man.
“What the hell? Carson, you’re a tool.” He shouted to another guy who was standing at the counter a few feet away, laughing. “Ignore that picture. He thinks he’s hilarious.”
I didn’t understand.
“You can put whatever picture you want on there. They don’t come like that,” Abe said.
“I don’t need something that expensive.”
The guy interjected. “Oh, that’s not the real price. It’s basically nothing with a two-year contract.”
“We’ll take two,” Abe told him. A two-year contract. I liked the sound of that.
“Thank you,” I told him.
“It’s just a phone,” he replied.
It was not just a phone. The salesman thought it was funny that I had no idea about all the things it did. There were apps for everything. Cooking and gardening, which were the two things I told him I was interested in. He also thought that was amusing. After showing me what he called “the basics,”
which took over an hour, I turned it off and put it in my purse.
After the phone place, we went a few furniture stores and collected money that they had from pieces they’d sold for Abe. He had furniture all over town and explained that was another reason that he’d like his own store in the future.
Every place we went people looked at me like I was weird, but they were all polite and nice and very complimentary about Abe’s work. Many placed orders for more, and that didn’t even count the stores that Abe had told me were closed on Sundays.
Soon, we were parked outside the supermarket, and as we made our way inside, I pulled the list from my purse. I didn’t have much money, and those phones were very pricey, so I wasn’t sure how much he wanted to get, but even a few things were better than what he had. Besides, my mother had taught me how to stretch a penny at a young age, and I was prepared to do just that.
“Let me see your list,” he said after pulling a cart free from the front of the store. He read it and handed it back. I couldn’t remember a single time that my father had done the shopping with or without me or my mother, but I liked that Abraham—Abe—was willing to do it. “Let’s start over there.”
We wandered through the produce and deli area. I crossed through each item we found and made notes of the items he picked up that I hadn’t written down. Soon the cart was full, and we had everything we’d need for at least a few weeks.
At the front of the store there was a section with soda and packages of alcohol and wine, both things I’d never tried. Then again, I’d never tried coffee before either, but I’d made sure that I’d included it on the list.
“Do you drink that?” I asked him as we passed the coolers.
He glanced at me and paused beside a shelf of bottles. “I’m not a big drinker, but I do sometimes. I like a cold beer every now and again or a glass of bourbon. I’ve tried wine, but there’s a lot of them and most are too sweet for me.”
