George giggled and clapped his hands.
Martin frowned at his brother but went back to his game, crowding around the clothespins, so George couldn’t get to them.
Charlotte glanced at the sun and surmised it to be about ten o’clock. With two boardinghouses and a new restaurant in town, she no longer offered meals to laborers. Milt, Caleb and Josiah now worked for the Little Falls Company and boarded at a different home, so she rarely saw them. Abram ate all his meals away from home now, except supper, which she always kept on the back of the stove for him. It was just her and the boys most days—and she had over an hour before she’d need to prepare their dinner.
“Come, boys.” She took off her apron and touched up her hair, signing to Robert, who glanced in her direction. “Let’s go look around town.” She longed to find Abram, and not just to discover how accurate Mrs. Perry’s information had been. She and the boys had seen so little of him recently, she would use any excuse to seek him out.
Chapter Thirteen
Abram lifted his hammer, a whistle on his lips, as he pounded the next piece of clapboard siding on the schoolhouse. He had finally found some free time and would use it to make progress on the school.
“Cut the next piece at exactly twelve feet,” Abram called to Caleb, who was measuring and cutting the siding.
Another week of work on the outside and the school would finally be enclosed. The shingles were all in place, and the copula built, ready for the school bell, which should arrive any day. After the siding was finished, they’d start on the inside. Next month, when Cheney came to visit, Abram would request funds for a blackboard, desks and schoolbooks. In about five weeks’ time, their new teacher would arrive and school could start.
Abram let out a satisfied sigh and hammered the next nail into the wall.
Now, if only he had a preacher to fill his church, he’d have everything in place to keep the boys.
Which meant Charlotte would leave, probably for good.
He stopped whistling as he lifted the next nail into place.
It was such a long journey from Iowa City to Little Falls, Charlotte would likely never return—though maybe, one day, if Robert wanted, he could go to the deaf school in Iowa City. But that was so far in the future, Abram preferred not to think about it.
He aimed at the nail but missed, hitting his thumb. “Ow!” He put his throbbing thumb in his mouth, tasting the metallic flavor of the nails.
“It’s been a while since you’ve done that,” Caleb said with a grin. “Mind preoccupied?”
“Give me more nails.” Abram took a handful from Caleb and slipped them into the pouch at his waist. He positioned the next nail and hit it square on the head.
A slender shadow with a full skirt fell across the siding and three smaller shadows hovered around it.
His family.
A smile tilted his lips as he turned to look at them, shading his eyes with his hand. “This is a pleasant surprise. What brings the four of you downtown?” He signed the question, but Robert was too busy looking around to see Abram.
Charlotte’s gaze swept over the school and then rested on him, and his heart did a little leap. She looked pretty today, her hair windswept and her cheeks pink. He had been doing a good job keeping his distance, but it felt good to have her close again.
“Mrs. Perry visited and said a doctor has moved into town,” Charlotte said.
Abram sobered. “It’s true.”
“How long have you known?”
“Just found out this morning.”
Charlotte was silent for a moment as she nibbled her bottom lip.
Martin held a clothespin in his hand, which meant it must be washing day. With all the work lately, he had lost track of time.
“Do you have any leads on a pastor?” she asked.
“Not yet. Hubbard has sent out several letters and has a few prospects, though.” The truth was, he hadn’t heard a word from any of the preachers Hubbard had contacted, but he was hopeful.
Charlotte looked at George and put her hand on his plump cheek, a sad smile on her lips. “I think we’ll look around town and then go visit Pearl for a bit.”
Abram stood and hooked his hammer in the tool belt on his hip. “I’d be happy to show you around.” The schoolhouse could wait for one more afternoon. Charlotte wouldn’t be with them forever.
Charlotte placed her free hand around Robert’s shoulder and pulled him closer to her side. She didn’t answer immediately—but then, why would she? They’d hardly spoken in weeks.
Her words from the night of the dance still taunted him, especially on days when the work became so wearisome he’d give anything to go back to the simplicity of operating his small farm and sawmill. He had dreamed of a great city but, like all dreams, it required hard work and dedication. Things he thought he had in great supply but realized were lacking when he needed them most. If he’d had a wife at home to lean on and share his burdens, he suspected it might be a different story. He longed to let the cares and worries melt away at the soft and comforting touch of a wife’s hand—but it wasn’t to be.
She looked up at him and nodded. “I’d like that.”
Abram inhaled a breath of fresh air and nodded. “I would, too. Just give me a moment.” He unhooked his tool belt.
“Abram!” Hubbard appeared across the road. “Can I have a word with you?”
Abram paused and glanced at Charlotte, disappointment tightening his chest.
“Go ahead,” Charlotte said. “We’ll see you tonight.” She took Martin’s hand and turned toward the Hubbard home.
Timothy Hubbard crossed the road, tipped his hat at Charlotte and then nodded at Abram. “Let’s head over to the company store.”
Abram handed his tool belt to Caleb. “Keep going until I get back.”
“Actually.” Hubbard’s jaw was taught. “That’s one of the things we need to talk about. Cheney wants all work to stop on extraneous ventures—including the schoolhouse—until we have more cash flow.”
“Extraneous ventures?” Abram sighed, knowing it was useless to argue. He took his tool belt back and nodded at Caleb. “The men could use your help on the gristmill roof. Why don’t you head over there?”
Caleb didn’t ask any questions, but moved around Hubbard and walked south toward the old wagon road leading to the sawmill and new gristmill.
Abram and Hubbard crossed Main Street and followed the road leading to the company store. The square building had a false front, large plate-glass windows and a green-and-white-striped awning already in place. Besides the church, Abram’s farm and the Hubbard home, it was the only finished building in town.
They pushed through the front door and were met by the jingling of a bell. The new store manager stood behind the long counter. Having him in place had freed up some of Abram’s time, but had allowed Abram to take on more work elsewhere.
They walked through the disorganized merchandise and went to the back room where Abram’s desk sat littered with paperwork. In their company agreement, Hubbard saw to the accounting and bookwork, while managing real estate sales. Abram was in charge of the sawmill, the new gristmill and the company store. Paperwork was the last of his worries, so it continued to pile up on his desk.
Abram hung his tool belt on the back of a chair and sat behind his desk. “What’s going on?”
Hubbard took a seat and let out a weary sigh. “I just returned from St. Anthony, and Cheney was livid.”
“Livid? Why?”
“I brought the books with me and he pored over them for hours, questioning every decision we’ve made. He noticed I had purchased logs, which I plan to use to build a public house and boardwalks. He saw your purchase for the school bell and the cross for the church.”
“Those are all necessary.”
&
nbsp; “He believes they can wait. He thinks we need to put more money into expanding the sawmill and enlarging the dam. Lumber is in such demand and he wants to see several saws going.”
“If we don’t have a school, how will we encourage families to come to town?”
“I agree. A public house is also needed. There are several projects I’d like to see completed to enhance the town’s image. Without people, we have no town.”
“Does Cheney expect me to stop building the schoolhouse altogether? We have a teacher coming in August.”
Hubbard’s bald head gleamed from the sunshine streaming through the lone window. “He won’t be here until next month, but he’s demanded that we stop all extraneous work until he comes and looks for himself. Until then, he wants us to devote our time to the sawmill and gristmill and dam—projects that will actually make us money.”
Abram rose and began to pace across his small office. “And if we don’t?”
Hubbard sighed. “He said he’ll pull his funding.”
Cheney’s financial support held up over half of their operations—without it, the entire company, and community, would collapse.
Abram paused and gripped the back of his chair. If he had more money, he’d do it himself, but he didn’t have a penny to his name. Every last dime was poured back into the company. “It looks like we’ll be working on the mills and the dam until further notice.” If Cheney came at the end of August, it would put him much too close to Charlotte’s September first deadline—but what choice did he have?
Other than Cheney, the only person he knew with money was Charlotte—and she was the last person he would ask.
* * *
Charlotte sat inside the church building on the third Sunday in July, reveling in the fresh pine scent of the gleaming new boards. Soft light filtered in through the wavy glass windows, washing over the eager congregants gathered within. The morning was much warmer than usual and the day promised to bring intense heat, but for now, Charlotte sat inside and basked in the presence of the Lord.
Dozens of familiar faces, and some new ones, encircled the church. Robert sat to Charlotte’s left, allowing her to interpret the whole service using sign language. Martin sat on her right, between her and Abram, and George sat on Abram’s lap. They were offered the front bench on the left and the Hubbards sat on the front bench on the right, their three children surrounding them.
Ben had appeared on Saturday and, finding the new town, had readily volunteered to hold the first church meeting in the new building. Charlotte had shared the news with Mrs. Perry and today over fifty people were in attendance.
Ben read from Psalm 118:24. “‘This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.’” His dark brown eyes looked out over the congregation and stopped on Abram. “God has planted seeds in the heart soil of His people, and He requires us to water and nurture those seeds with His word and through prayer. If attended to properly, when fully grown, they produce a harvest of fruit, which we can offer to the hungry here on earth.
“This church is the fruit of a seed planted in the heart of Abram Cooper. Through Mr. Cooper’s unwavering faith and dedication to God’s call, he saw this town spring forth from the wilderness. And, as a dedication to God, he built this building.”
Abram squirmed in his seat and adjusted his tie, unable to meet Reverend Lahaye’s penetrating gaze.
“What dream has God planted in your heart?” the reverend asked, searching the crowd. “What dream do you need to nurture and water, so it can produce a harvest? I urge you to ask God this question, and seek His answer.” He offered a gentle, inviting smile. “I will leave you with this passage from Psalm 37:3–5. ‘Trust in the Lord, and do good; so shalt thou dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be fed. Delight thyself also in the Lord: and He shall give thee the desires of thine heart. Commit thy way unto the Lord; trust also in Him; and He shall bring it to pass.’ Let us pray.”
It was good to see Ben again. He wore his customary clothing, and his two long braids. Charlotte guessed him to be in his late twenties, but his youthful face and joyful disposition gave him a slightly younger countenance. He was a handsome man and Charlotte had watched several women take notice.
He had bunked with Abram and the boys the night before and had joined them for breakfast, but Charlotte was eager to return home for the noon meal, and spend time with him and Abram. She still recalled the Christmas they’d spent together with fondness.
Ben finished his prayer and the group stood for one final hymn. They sang Charlotte’s favorite, “Amazing Grace,” and then Ben exited the church and waited on the front steps to greet everyone as they left the building.
It had been a humble service with no piano or organ, no choir or hymnals. But it had been heartfelt and had offered nourishment to parched souls.
Charlotte waited for Abram to leave their pew, but he stood, staring at the cross hanging on the whitewashed wall behind the simple pulpit.
The room filled with the voices of their friends and neighbors, but Abram didn’t move to speak with any of them. Instead he took a deep breath. “There are two things I regret in my life,” he said quietly, and she had to lean closer to hear.
“Only two?” she inquired with a smile.
He glanced at her and offered a half smile, but lines edged his mouth and eyes. “Two that stand out to me at this moment.”
She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his confession but she had nowhere to go.
“I regret not marrying Susanne in a church—and not having a church for her funeral.”
Heaviness smothered Charlotte’s previous joy and her smile faded. Susanne would have loved this church and loved to see what Abram had accomplished. It still didn’t seem fair that her sister had died so young. Charlotte swallowed back a lump in her throat. “There are two things I regret in my life, as well.”
Abram met her gaze, his countenance heavy. “What do you regret, Charlotte?”
“Not being at Susanne’s wedding and not being at her funeral.” In the past she would have reminded him that he had been the cause of these regrets—but not anymore. After their conversation on the night of the dance, she had come to realize she was just as much to blame—if not more so.
“Today is the anniversary of her death,” Abram said with a deep sigh. “It’s hard to believe she’s been gone a year.”
How had she forgotten? Guilt and grief choked Charlotte and threatened to cut off her breath. “Today I’ll take the boys out and we’ll pick some flowers and put them on her grave.”
Abram’s blue eyes lit with a smile, even though it didn’t quite reach his mouth. “May I join you?”
“Of course.”
He studied Charlotte for a moment. “I never would have imagined one year ago that I’d be standing in a church, in the middle of this town, with you by my side.”
A smile tickled her lips. “Imagine what I would have thought a year ago?”
He readjusted George in his arms and offered Charlotte a tender look. “I think Susanne would be very happy to see us together—reconciled.”
Reconciled? Was the word too strong for their tenuous relationship? “I just wish it hadn’t taken her death for me to realize so much of this had been my fault.”
“Charlotte, don’t.” He turned and fully faced her. “Don’t blame yourself. There’s no one to blame. I said those things after the dance because I was hurt.”
“No.” She shook her head. “You were right. I push too hard.”
“Sometimes pushing is a good thing.” He used his free hand to indicate the building. “If you hadn’t pushed me, none of this would be here.”
She glanced around the church and her mood became somber. “If you find a full-time preacher, this building means...” She swallowed and couldn’t continue.
“Let’s not dwell on that right now,” Abram said. “I’d rather try to enjoy this beautiful day and let all my troubles be forgotten for now.”
It did feel good to be speaking to him so freely again. “I won’t mention it...at least not today.”
He smiled and his eyes crinkled at the corners.
“There you are.” Ben entered the church and Charlotte realized they were standing in an empty building. Martin had gone to the front of the room and was standing behind the pulpit, murmuring snippets of scripture he had memorized. Robert sat on the bench, holding Charlotte’s Bible in his hands, studying the words, and George had fallen asleep on Abram’s shoulder.
“Are you ready to join us for dinner?” Charlotte asked.
“I’ve been looking forward to it all morning.” Ben’s handsome gaze rested on her face and she felt heat rise to her cheeks.
“Come, Martin,” she called and then touched Robert on the shoulder and motioned for him to follow.
They left the church and walked down the wagon road to their home.
Somehow, over the past eight and a half months, it had stopped being Abram’s home and had somehow become “theirs,” though she knew it could never truly belong to her. Her home was waiting in Iowa, along with her new dress shop. She had tried to daydream about the shop and how she would decorate and operate her business, but it had been hard to concentrate on a place so far removed from her current situation.
But today she wouldn’t think of her inevitable departure from Minnesota Territory, or wonder, for the thousandth time, if she was going alone or taking the boys.
They entered the house and were greeted with the scent of roasted chicken. Charlotte shooed the men and children outside to enjoy the day and went into the kitchen to finish dinner preparations. She had put the bird in the oven early that morning, so when she pulled it out of the pot, it fell off the bone. She had also roasted some potatoes, and quickly whipped up some gravy. The biscuits were still fresh from Saturday’s baking and there were fresh greens from the garden she and the boys had planted early that spring.
A Family Arrangement Page 15
