“I will let you go on your way then. I didn’t mean to keep you from your plans.”
I turned away from him, and started toward my car. Then an urge I couldn’t put down hit me, and I turned back to him. “Let me ask you this. You seem like a decent enough person. Why would you be satisfied with a stranger that my father has told you to marry? Don’t you want to marry someone who at least wants to marry you? What if what my father’s decree is not what God wants? Have you even asked yourself that?”
“Your father didn’t choose for us to marry, God did. I have faith. And no, of course I wouldn’t just marry anyone the Elder assigned to me. I’m not his puppet, Keziah. You have many qualities that both the Elder and I think would make you an excellent wife and mother. I would not marry a woman who wasn’t prudent, frugal, charitable, and kind.”
“But I’m a sinner,” I protested.
“Aren’t we all?”
“True.”
My father thought I would make a good wife. This was high praise indeed. For a moment, I almost liked Porter. Sure — being prudent frugal, and charitable wasn’t the same as being beautiful, or wise, but it wasn’t bad. Furthermore, kind was perhaps the nicest thing that my father had ever thought about me. If those were his thoughts, and not Porter’s.
“It is true that you are stubborn, insubordinate, and immodest, but these are things I am willing to help you with as our marriage progresses,” Porter said, not unkindly.
Ah, moment over. “And what would I be helping you with in this theoretical marriage?”
He seemed surprised. “Well, obviously, you would care for the house, and any children, you would support me in the ministry. You would be my helpmate.”
“Not what I meant. I am all too well aware of what you would expect from me domestically. What I meant was that you have dissected my character with my father. I don’t have the benefit of someone who knows you well. What are your flaws, Porter?”
He flushed a bit, and looked uncomfortable. “I would help you prefect yourself, the Elder would help me perfect myself. It would be unseemly for you to correct me. You would not be the head. I would be.”
“No, my father would be. There would always be three people in a marriage between us. You and my father against me. That’s no basis for a marriage, even if I would ever consider it. That wouldn’t be a marriage, it would be a war zone. And I’d always lose.”
Porter nodded. “I can see why you would think that. You don’t know me, and I can see why you would think that. You’re wrong though. I told you. I don’t follow the Elder blindly.”
“And yet you’re here because you plan to marry me. A woman you don’t know except that I’m my father’s daughter. Why? Because my father told you to marry me.”
“God will bring His will to pass.”
“Have a nice day, Porter,” I said, turning back toward my car.
“I didn’t mean to offend you. But the truth is the truth. You can’t hide the truth.”
I didn’t look back. It was pointless to engage him any further, and I knew it. So I instead got in my car and drove away.
*
At St. Paul’s that morning, I hauled the ancient sewing machine out from under the counter in the sacristy, and set it on the table in the banner room. I didn’t expect that I would need it. Still, every year I greased it whether I was using it or not, and then ran it just to keep in it working order. Nothing ever was left to rust, and nothing was ever replaced before it was worn out. The congregation had gotten at least sixty years of faithful service out of the sewing machine.
So I settled in to make the remaining repairs to the paraments. I hadn’t thought there would be that many, or that they would take that long. Still, Mrs. Clack was headed out for lunch before I started to pack up my equipment. I watched from the windows in the banner room as her car pulled out of the parking lot. I assumed I was alone in the building.
Just as I lifted the sewing machine from the table for the return trip to the the sacristy, I was interrupted.
“Good grief, Keziah, let me get that,” said Pastor Brett, as he hurried into the room.
“It’s fine,” I said with a little grunt. The all-metal gears of the war-era machine were heavy.
He took the machine from me, grunting a little himself. “You are much stronger than you look. I’ll be right back,” he said, before disappearing out to the sanctuary.
He was back in a minute to find me snapping shut my embroidery case, and holstering my scissors before returning them to the green, flowered bag.
“How are you today, Pastor Brett?”
“Good. I wish you’d call me Jeff. After all, I’m not your Pastor. It seems so formal.”
That startled me. “I was raised formal.”
“I’d like to think we could be friends, or at least more friendly.”
“Well, if we’re going to be friends, you should call me Kay. Not many people call me Keziah.”
“But Keziah is such a lovely name. Biblical. One of the good daughters of Job.”
“Yes, I know. I think I just barely escaped being named Jemimah. Just too bad I didn’t live up the my namesake.”
“I think you’re wrong about that,” he said, before moving over to look out the windows.
I wanted to say more to him but the conversation was odd. If it had been anyone else, I would have thought that he was flirting with me.
I double-checked the room to make sure I had everything that was mine, and had put away all the things that weren’t mine.
“Would you ever come back and live in Charity?” he asked, while still looking out the window.
“No,” I said.
“Why? Your friends, don’t you ever miss them?” he asked, turning to look at me.
“Of course I miss them, but I’m not... I can’t be the Christian I want to be here.”
“That seems a little far-fetched.”
“I have trouble being objective about my faith when I’m here. The longer I stay, the more I start to feel like there is something I could do to save myself. That if I just work harder, or if I was just a better daughter, or if I just made the right choices, everything would be good. That it isn’t about what God does, but about what I do. I can’t go back there again. It hurts too much.”
“It can be a dangerous slope.”
“It’s the way I was raised. Away from here, I can forget about that and remember that ‘by grace you are saved through faith’. Distance gives me peace of mind. It’s weird, I know, but I do what I have to do. I’ve come to far to go backwards.”
“It makes a lot of sense in a way. It’s just too bad. The Brandt’s seem like they’d enjoy having you around more.”
“I’d enjoy being around more.”
He turned back to me. “Here. My new business card. Can you believe it? I have business cards.”
I took the small card with the gold cross emblazoned on the right, with his contact information printed on the left, and tucked it in a small pocket in my bag. “Thanks. They look nice.”
“If you ever need to bend anyone’s ear...”
“Sure,” I said.
We said goodbye, and I headed back to the Brandt’s.
*
Back at the Brandt’s I found Dory alone in the kitchen, cleaning up after lunch. The radio was on, but the volume was low. I stuck my head into the kitchen and she shot me a sad little smile. “Ivy is out helping the boys in the barn.”
“I’ll go find them in a bit.” I still had my bag slung over my shoulder, and I was dressed too nicely for what surely awaited me in the barn.
“Before you go... I would hate to think you hate me now. I know you can’t possibly think well of me. But if you could try and understand. Maybe try and talk to Ivy...”
“I don’t hate you. People make mistakes. We’re human.”
She seemed surprised by this, and I couldn’t blame her. When she first knew me I was not so temperate. I probably would have hated her then. I probably would
have ruined my friendship with Ivy by telling my father everything. That would have been disastrous.
“Have you and Ivy talked about things?”
“I’m not going to discuss that with you. That’s between Ivy and me. Just like what you and Ivy have discussed is between the two of you and not me,” I said.
“We haven’t really.”
I looked at her without saying anything. Outside, a scream of glee from Ivy, and a yelp of surprise from John sounded from the direction of the barn, followed by the laughter of Lem and Mark. They were having fun. I figured I should dress for mud, or at least water.
“You’re burning daylight,” I said.
“She’s not easy to talk to.”
“Neither are you.”
She nodded, and turned up the volume on the radio. I went upstairs and changed into an old pair of shorts, and a t-shirt washed from green to grey.
Thirteen
Friday and Saturday morning Porter showed up and was turned away by Linus at the door. Each day he took it graciously. Each day he told Linus he would come back the next day. Each day Linus just shook his head as a reply.
Ivy and I walked, read, talked, shopped, and generally spent our vacation time as we always had in the past. Dylan Morris came up from time to time. Ivy and Dory were talking in small helpings. A question here, and answer there. No huge emotional outpourings. Some information Ivy would share with me, some of it I knew she was keeping to herself. I did my best not to be nosey.
Dory didn’t want Ivy getting to know Dylan Morris. Ivy sort of agreed. He had left Ivy with the impression that Dory’s pregnancy was kept from him, Dory and Linus said differently. That alone was enough to make Ivy never want to speak to him again. On the other hand, he must have a view on the story too. I could see Ivy was struggling with the decision.
It was good to see Ivy and her mother talking. The distance Dory had put between them all Ivy’s life finally had a name. Always in the past Ivy had felt that she was treated differently by Dory because she was a girl. Now Ivy knew that wasn’t necessarily the case.
Sunday morning I stood in the kitchen drinking coffee, once again in my green sundress and cream sweater. I was in the same spot I had been the week before when Susan’s call came. Instead, that day, there was a very firm, almost thunderous knock at the front door. I recognized that knock, and tensed, but was not surprised to hear my father’s voice asking for me when Linus answered the door. Of course he was there to see me. I had turned his emissary away too many times.
“I’ll see if she’s available to speak with you,” said Linus as he closed the door softly, and came back to the kitchen.
“You don’t have to talk to him,” said Dory with worried eyes. My father always scared her a little.
“One of us could come with you,” said John, who was sitting at the kitchen table pouring over the funnies.
“Did he have Porter with him?”
Linus nodded. “I’d be happy to come with you,” he said.
“Or I’ll come,” said Ivy.
“I’ve got it,” I said.
When I opened the front door my father and Porter had retreated to the front yard, forcing me to step out of the house in order to greet them properly. I knew the instant I pulled the door closed behind me that I was making a mistake. I was down the front stairs and on the front walk before I realized how big a mistake. My father had that look. More than angry. He’d reached that cold, hard, righteous place. It made his preaching moving, and interacting with him one-on-one dangerous. I straightened my shoulders and held my head a little more erect. No place to run, and it wouldn’t do any good anyway.
“We’ve come to get you for church. Go back in and change your dress. You will not appear in my church looking like a harlot.”
“Good morning. I’m not planning on going to church with you today. And even if I was, this is all I have.”
“Then we will stop at Sister Kline’s first. She will have something you can wear. Come with us.”
“I’m sorry, that won’t be possible,” I said.
My father’s voice softened, but his stance and his eyes did not. I was not fooled. I met his gaze unflinchingly, I hoped.
“Keziah, my darling daughter, I am here to call you back to your place among the chosen. There is a righteous man ordained by God to be your husband. There is a calling for you among us. If you would just bend your heart enough to hear God’s voice. All could be forgiven and forgotten. We will start fresh. It will be as if our estrangement never happened. It will be as if you never turned your back on God.”
“I never did turn my back on God. I won’t come back to the Unbridled Holiness. I won’t marry Porter.”
His hand cracked across my left cheek. The force of his slap made my head snap to one side. I heard Porter gasp and start to protest. “No. She will obey me,” my father snapped.
My hand went to my face where I could feel the numbness starting to leave, and the pain start. I was shocked, even though it was exactly what I had expected. I was always shocked when it happened. Once I worried he would leave bruises. He never did. At least not easily visible ones. He was in to handing out embarrassment shock and pain, not evidence.
I looked up, and met my father’s eyes. “No,” I said before turning to go back up the stairs.
I didn’t even get to the fist step before my father’s hand wrapped around my upper arm. He pulled me back and tried to start toward the car. I dug my heels into the lawn, and had the satisfaction of hearing his stunned grunt. He wasn’t used to much of a fight from me.
“Get her other arm,” my father ordered Porter. Porter just stood there, soggy and useless to either one of us.
Just as he started to budge me, the front door flew open. John, Ivy, Linus, Lem, and Mark came flying out the front door and down the steps.
“Let her go!” yelled John as he wrapped an arm around my waist from behind and steadied me.
“She’s coming with us now!” my father thundered.
“No Walton, she’s not. You can’t just drag her away and force her to attend your church any more than you can force her in to a marriage she doesn’t want,” said Linus, his calm, quiet voice cutting through the struggle.
My father did not let go of me. Instead, he gripped harder. Now that was going to bruise. “She is my child, and she will do as she is told.”
“Let her go Walton.” Porter’s voice, if it was possible, was even more hushed than Linus’ had been.
My father let me go, and turned on Porter with his towering wrath. “You claim to be a man of God. How can you not see what must be? How dare you not help me save my child’s soul? How can you lead the people of God when you shrink from this!”
“You can’t gain her soul this way Walton. It is time for us to go. Now.”
“You are a traitor to God!” My father stormed off to their car.
Porter stood before us for a moment before focusing his gaze on me. “I’m sorry, Keziah. If I had known, I wouldn’t have brought him here. If you’ll excuse me. I have a great deal to pray on.” With that, Porter turned and followed my father.
They hustled me back into the house then. Dory was waiting with a cold compress for my face, and kind words of reassurance. I insisted I was fine, but took the cold compress and another cup of coffee. Time was short; we had a church service to get to. So I drank my coffee, and ignored the ache of the bruise coming up on my arm.
*
Ivy and John stuck close to me the rest of the day, as if they expected Walton Taylor to come crashing down on me again. I wasn’t worried. From the way Porter left I was sure my father had bigger problems than me. A prodigal child can be wooed back another day. A congregation breaking in two needs immediate attention.
Services at St. Paul’s that morning proved soothing. Jeff preached on Jesus healing Jairus’s Daughter and the woman with bleeding. It was a good sermon. He had more authority in the pulpit than I would have given Jeff credit for if I’d just met him
on the street. Maybe it helped that the story of the woman with bleeding was a favorite of mine. I knew only too well what it was to try and sneak up on God in hopes of being healed without being noticed.
I did wonder what Jeff would have done if my father had suddenly burst into the sanctuary and tried to take over the service. A very real possibility any pastor of mine could be facing someday given what had happened the week before. I wondered how Father Felix had handled the intrusion. I hadn’t been there to see. I made a mental note to ask him the next time we spoke.
I slipped away to the fields that night after dinner. I had developed the habit of calling Father Felix every night at twilight. I still wasn’t ready to speak with Ruth Ann in any depth. Still, as long as I was keeping in contact with Father Felix, she seemed satisfied that I wasn’t going to disappear. Often Father Felix and I wouldn’t speak for long. Just pleasantries and weather.
I would not tell him about my run in with my father that morning. The humiliation was too fresh. Perhaps I never would tell anyone. I certainly wished that the Brandts hadn’t seen what I knew they must have. Always before I had been able to just not speak of how harsh he could be. Now the exact nature of our struggle was known. I was sure he was telling Porter and maybe his congregation that he had simply been overcome in a heated moment, and that it was a one-time thing. He might ask their forgiveness, but he would never apologize to me. I was also sure that the Brandts had their long term suspicions confirmed. They hadn’t said anything, but even Mark and Lem had been downright tender with me all day. It was more than a little disconcerting. All I wanted to do was push it down and forget, but each time I looked at one of them, I knew they knew.
As I walked toward the trees, movement out on the road beyond the field caught my eye. A tall, womanly figure dressed in grey walked toward the Brandt’s. The setting sun glistened off of blond hair. It could only be Susan. I changed course.
As I drew nearer she spotted me and stopped her progress. “Keziah. Can you come for a walk?”
“Sure. How are you tonight?” I asked, as I stepped on to the road in front of her.
“Not well,” she said, and I could see that it was true. She had been crying.
The Color of Ordinary Time Page 10
