A Family Arrangement

by Gabrielle Meyer

  “Do you need any help?” Abram entered the kitchen and, for a moment, it felt like last winter, when it had been just the two of them and the boys, before Hubbard had partnered with Abram.

  “I could use your help setting the table.”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  While Abram set the table, Charlotte stole an appreciative glance at him and caught him looking at her. He smiled and she felt her cheeks bloom with heat.

  Reconciliation. Maybe it was possible.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Abram sat at the head of his table, enjoying the easy conversation between him, Charlotte and Ben. It had been many months since he had taken the time to simply sit down and visit with friends. The meal sat with satisfaction in his stomach and Charlotte’s coffee warmed his hand through the speckled mug. They had left the dirty dishes on the table, so deep in conversation that no one had noticed.

  “And what do you think of Mr. O’Sullivan’s idea of Manifest Destiny, Reverend Lahaye?” Charlotte asked.

  Ben leaned forward, his eyes flirting with her. “I told you to call me Ben... Charlotte.”

  Charlotte’s cheeks filled with color, just as they did every time Ben teased her or showered her with attention—which had been all afternoon. “All right, Ben.”

  Ben leaned back in his chair. “I believe in Manifest Destiny as an idea, but not as a government policy,” he said. “I believe, as Christians, we are commissioned to go and make disciples of all the nations, and I believe that every knee shall bow and every tongue confess—but do I believe it is the job of the American government to conquer this vast land, with the idea of ultimate control? No, especially if it means the spread of slavery and forcing my mother’s people onto reservations.” He paused, as if to gather his thoughts. “But I do believe that eventually this land will be full from sea to sea, and there is no way to stop it now.”

  The boys had been put down for a nap, which allowed the adults the freedom to visit, and Abram sensed Charlotte was in need of this time. He had never seen her so animated—except for the few times he’d watched her dance. She was an intelligent woman and it was fun to hear her thoughts.

  She leaned forward. “What do you think of—”

  “No more questions.” Ben laughed, putting up his hands. “At least not for me. I’d rather learn more about you. It’s my turn to ask questions.”

  She met his gaze with an air of good-natured challenge. “What would you like to know... Ben?”

  Ben rested his elbow on the table and put his chin in his hand. “I’d love to know everything there is to know about you, Charlotte.”

  Abram didn’t like the intimate turn in the conversation—or the fact that he felt as if he had been forgotten. He stood quickly. “Ben, I’d like your help with something outside.”

  Ben and Charlotte both turned to look at him.

  “Now?” Ben asked. “It’s Sunday. A day of rest—and I was just starting to get to know Charlotte.”

  “It’s nothing hard...just.” Just what? What excuse could he make for tearing Ben away from Charlotte’s company? “I need to replace a hinge on the privy door.”

  “Abram,” Charlotte chastised, her eyes growing wide. “Can’t Harry do that tomorrow? We were enjoying a nice conversation.”

  Abram took Ben’s coffee mug out of his hand. “I need to talk to Ben—in private.”

  “At the privy?” Ben asked with a raised brow.

  “Abram!” Charlotte said again.

  “No.” Abram scratched his head, irritation making his pulse jump. “I just need you to come with me.” He had to resist the urge to haul Ben out by the nape of his neck. “We’ll be back soon, Charlotte.”

  She stood and started clearing the table, casting a strange look at Abram, but didn’t ask any more questions.

  Abram strode out the lean-to door and walked around the house. He glanced back only once to make sure Ben was following.

  “What’s this about, Abram?”

  Abram walked to the river, wanting to be as far away from the house as possible. “I need to speak to you about something.”

  “You couldn’t talk to me in front of Charlotte?”

  Abram shook his head. “It has something to do with her.”

  They sat on the bank of the river. Heat penetrated the air and humidity saturated their skin. Abram took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. The sun made the heat even more unbearable. Maybe he should have taken Ben to the shade of a willow tree.

  Ben leaned his elbows on his upright knees. “What’s going on, Abram?”

  Abram took a deep breath. “I need a favor.”

  “Anything.”

  Abram wished it was that easy. “This one is probably more than a favor. It’s a sacrifice, really.”

  Ben watched him carefully. “Go on.”

  “I need a full-time preacher in the church...or Charlotte will take my boys back to Iowa with her.”

  “What?” Ben dropped his arms. “What are you talking about?”

  Abram quickly told him about their arrangement. “I have a teacher and a doctor—now I just need a preacher.”

  “And you need to finish the school.”

  “That’s the least of my worries. I can figure out how to do that—but I can’t seem to find a full-time preacher.”

  Ben shook his head. “You know I’d like to help—but I’m not called to stay in one location. I’m able to reach more people by traveling.” He laughed. “I wouldn’t even know what to do with myself if I stayed in one place. I haven’t lived in a house for more than a week at any given time in the past ten years.”

  “I can’t let her take the boys back to Iowa—it would be like losing Susanne all over again. Those boys mean everything to me. I built this town for them—everything I do is for them. I can’t lose them now.”

  “Then tell Charlotte you’ve changed your mind.”

  “I can’t do that, either. She’s already given up eight months of her life and put her business on hold to help me and fulfill her end of the deal. I don’t know what I would have done without her this year. She single-handedly fed over sixty men three square meals a day, every day, for months. If I withdrew now, I couldn’t live with the guilt.”

  “So then let her take the boys to Iowa.”

  “Didn’t you hear me? That’s not an option, either. I have to find a preacher.”

  “If you find one, she’ll leave then, won’t she?” His dark eyes studied Abram. “Is that something you’re willing to accept?”

  “It’s the only choice I have.”

  “Abram, what you ask of me is something I cannot decide quickly. I would have to pray and ask the Lord if it’s something He would have me do.” Ben looked toward the hill and to the church, sitting on the corner of Main Street and the old wagon road. “I confess it was nice to be in a building today and see so many people who could become my flock. And when I rode by the shanty last night, and saw all those men coming and going, I felt a pressure on my spirit to reach out to them.” He stopped and squinted, as if in thought. “I will pray about your request.”

  “You will?” It wasn’t yes, but it also wasn’t no, either. At this point it felt like progress. “Keep in mind, it doesn’t mean you can’t travel and minister to people in the area.”

  Ben nodded.

  A sliver of hope wiggled inside Abram’s heart. “I will pray, as well. And you can stay here as long as you need to think it over.”

  Ben was quiet for a few moments and then he lifted his knee and wrapped his arms around it. “Now, I have a question.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you think there is any chance?” He paused and then hesitantly went on. “Do you think Charlotte might consider staying in Little Falls?”

 
Abram was silent as he contemplated the question. “I don’t believe there is. She is set on returning to Iowa City and opening a dress shop.”

  “Do you think she might be persuaded to stay?” Ben asked.

  “I really don’t know.” Abram had known Ben for five years and, in all that time, he’d never been afraid to talk frankly. “Why are you asking?”

  Ben offered a sheepish smile. “Isn’t it obvious?”

  His answer felt like a punch out of nowhere.

  “Since she has no other family,” Ben continued, “are you the one I need to ask to call on her?”

  “Me?” Abram stood quickly. “She is a grown woman. I’m the last person you need to ask.”

  Ben also stood. “Do you think I have a chance?”

  Abram ran his hand over his hair and scratched the back of his neck. “Let’s not keep Charlotte waiting.”

  “My sentiments exactly.” Ben started toward the house before Abram could get his feet to work.

  In all the scenarios Abram had envisioned, he’d never imagined Charlotte staying in Little Falls to marry one of his best friends.

  Could he stand by and watch that happen? At this point, what choice did he have? He had no claim on her heart.

  * * *

  Charlotte usually loved any work that brought her outside, especially in the last part of August, when the weather was close to perfect. But today her heart was too heavy to enjoy the beautiful day. They were only one week away from the first of September, and she would be leaving on the stage...if the schoolteacher arrived, and if the schoolhouse was complete.

  Today was Friday, which meant she was cleaning the house, and she had brought the rugs outside to beat on the clothesline. It afforded her the opportunity to be in the sunshine and to watch the activity at the top of the hill. Now that Main Street had filled in, she could only see the back side of most of the buildings.

  Charlotte used all her upper body strength to beat the rugs with the flat metal rug beater. The dust fluffed into the air with each thwack and she had to stop to wipe the sweat from her brow.

  George was taking a nap, while Robert and Martin were collecting eggs in the henhouse. Now that Robert could freely communicate, he threw fewer tantrums and had proved to be a gentle boy with an easy smile and a tender heart. Martin, on the other hand, was quick to fight and often disobeyed. But, Charlotte had to remind herself, he had just celebrated his fourth birthday and had a lot to learn.

  Harry appeared near the barn door, a shovel in hand. He didn’t notice Charlotte, or if he did, he ignored her. He went to the pigpen, where a post had come loose, and proceeded to fix the problem.

  Charlotte hit the rag rug one more time and then took all the rugs off the line and set them in her basket. She lifted the basket and rested it on her hip, standing for a moment to watch Harry. Every day, when he came to get his food, Charlotte offered him a smile and tried to start a conversation, but without fail, Harry grunted or scowled, or simply turned away without acknowledging her.

  What would he do if she approached him? Would it be more of the same treatment? If she was leaving in a week, she needed to set things right between them.

  Charlotte focused her sights ahead and marched across Wood Street, directly to the pigpen. “Hello, Harry.”

  Harry turned, his eyes growing round and then narrowing. “What do you want?”

  What was the point of small talk? “I want you to forgive my rash behavior last year and start joining the rest of us in the kitchen again.”

  Harry stopped his work and stood, slowly, mistrust written all over his face. “What did you say?”

  She repositioned the basket on her other hip. “I’d like your forgiveness.” She swallowed hard, forcing herself to say the next words. “I was wrong about the way I treated you.” Though, she wasn’t wrong about why she had done it. She should have simply thought of a different way to encourage him to go to church.

  “You were wrong?” He leaned on the shovel, his freckled face squinting in the bright sunshine. He looked baffled, as if maybe she was trying to play a trick on him.

  “I still hope that one day you’ll choose to reform your ways and start going to church, but it’s not my place to convict you.” She had served many men at her table over the winter, and she had no idea what state their hearts were in, yet she had welcomed them all. Why should it be any different for Harry?

  “You’re saying I can eat in the kitchen with you, regardless of whether or not I go to church?”

  She smiled and nodded. “Yes.”

  “No.” He shoved the spade into the ground with a hard thrust.

  Her smile fell. “No?”

  “I wouldn’t sit at your table if it was the last table in this territory.” He stopped and glared at her. “I’m sure you had some religious revelation that made you think you’re ready to offer me mercy—but save it for church, lady. Did you ever stop to think I was choosing not to eat at your table? All these months, you thought you were denying me access, but I was the one who was choosing not to eat with you.” He went back to work and didn’t bother to look at her. “I’m counting down the days until you get out of this town, so I don’t have to look at your face anymore.”

  Charlotte had never been slapped before, but she imagined this was how it would feel. Her cheeks burned and embarrassment sliced through her chest. She swallowed several times but couldn’t find the wherewithal to move her feet. “I—I’m sorry you feel that way, Harry.”

  He snorted. “I’m sure you are.”

  “Aunt Charlotte, I broke an egg on accident!” Martin called out. “And Robert’s crying.”

  Charlotte turned from Harry and walked slowly across Wood Street and over to the chicken coop. Robert held a broken egg in his little hands, tears streaming down his cheeks.

  A thick blanket of melancholy slipped over Charlotte’s shoulders as she set down the basket and knelt in front of Robert. “It’s okay,” she signed.

  “Baby chicken,” Robert signed.

  Charlotte shook her head, her throat tight. “It wasn’t a baby chicken yet.”

  “It could have been.” Robert lifted the broken shell, signing as the yellow yolk slid down his arm. “Not anymore. Martin broke it and I can’t fix it.”

  Martin stood by, the realization of his actions sinking in as his eyes grew bigger.

  Charlotte hugged Robert and then wiped his hands with her apron.

  She caught a glimpse of Harry, working near the pigpen. Was he like the delicate egg, broken and irreparable? Had she cracked him further?

  Lord, I thank You that we are not like eggshells that once broken are irreparable. I thank You that You are the God who heals and fixes, and like the fence Harry is repairing, can be useful again. Please forgive me for my part in Harry’s brokenness, and help me to be a light in the darkness for him. Amen.

  “Let’s go inside and have a cookie,” Charlotte said to the boys. “And I’ll tell you all about how chickens are made.”

  The boys ran ahead into the kitchen, but a man’s approach on Wood Street made Charlotte pause in the doorway—and smile. “Hello, Ben.”

  He returned the smile and it warmed Charlotte all the way through. Ben had been staying with them for nearly five weeks, and had conducted services in the church on several Sundays. He didn’t tell Charlotte why he had chosen to stay in Little Falls for so long, but he spent his days helping Abram, for which Abram had been very grateful.

  Ben drew close and his gaze rested gently on her face. “You don’t like wearing a bonnet, do you?”

  “How could you tell?”

  He reached out and touched the tip of her nose. “You have freckles.”

  She brought her free hand up and covered her nose. “No—do I?”

  He laughed. “I think they are very becomin
g.”

  Something about Ben drew her to him. Maybe it was his quiet confidence, or his deep faith. Maybe it was the fact that, though he was a wanderer, unlike her father and Thomas, there was purpose in his wandering. He wasn’t chasing the next scheme, but was chasing after the heart of God.

  She sensed his attraction to her, but that wasn’t what drew her. There were several men in town that paid special attention to her, but she didn’t return their affection—not like she did with Ben.

  Whatever it was, she had enjoyed his time with them.

  He took off his hat and held it to his chest. “Do you have a moment to talk?”

  “I will gladly make a moment.” She indicated her basket of rugs. “Let me set this down and give the boys some cookies.”

  He nodded and followed her into the house. She left the basket in the lean-to and then took four sugar cookies out of a cookie jar and handed two to each of the boys.

  “That should keep them busy for a few moments.” She wiped her hands and found Ben fiddling with his hat. “Shall we go into the other room?”

  “I’d like that.” He followed her out of the kitchen and closed the door.

  “What can I do for you?” she asked. He had mentioned at one point that it might be nice to have curtains on the windows in the church, to close them when the sun was especially bright. “Do you need help picking out fabric for the church?”

  He took a step toward her and then hesitated, as if uncertain. “This isn’t about the church—well, not really.”

  It was the first time she had seen him look insecure. She placed her hand on his arm. “What is it, Ben?”

  He looked down at her hand and then tentatively placed his over hers. “I’d like to speak plainly to you, Charlotte.”

  Her heart thudded against her breastbone. She wanted to remove her hand from his but wasn’t sure how to do it tactfully. “Of course. Shall we sit?”

  He nodded and she moved away from his hold, thankful for the space between them. She indicated Abram’s chair and then took a seat in hers.

  Ben sat and looked at the ground for a moment. Finally he glanced up. “I have a big decision to make, and it largely depends on what you say in the next several minutes.”