Christopher couldn’t sleep, despite the bed’s comfort. He got up and sat staring into the darkness. Now that he’d convinced Tommy and Jimmy of the need to keep the family together, the time had come to press forward.
He thought of Deborah and wondered what her reaction would be to the arrival of a ready-made family. She would no doubt be shocked—maybe even angry—that he’d not consulted her first. But if there had been any other way, he would have taken it.
“I’m not cut out for this,” he whispered. How was he supposed to take over the care of these children?
A sound echoed from somewhere in the house. Crying—of that he was certain. Christopher got to his feet and pulled on his clothes. Without bothering to tuck in the shirt, he made his way to the door and opened it. He listened for a moment. Mrs. Maynard’s room was downstairs, so it had to be one of his siblings.
He crept into the hall and the sound grew louder. It was coming from the left of his room, where Emma, Jonah, and Darcy slept. He eased open the door. The sobs were coming from the bed where he’d tucked in the two youngest earlier that evening.
Christopher couldn’t see very well, but didn’t want to light a lamp. He retraced the position of the room’s furnishings in his mind and carefully made his way to the bed.
“Emma and Jonah, are you all right? Are you ill?”
The crying softened. “I’m a-scared,” Jonah said, sitting up.
Emma sat up, as well, and fought to speak. “I want . . . want . . . Mama. I miss . . . miss her.”
This sent Jonah into a new round of tears. There was nothing to do but offer what comfort he could. Taking the boy in his arms, Christopher sat on the edge of the bed. Emma quickly scooted across and crawled onto his lap beside Jonah.
“I miss her, too,” Christopher said as the children calmed in his arms. He sighed and held them close. “I miss her more than I can say.”
Emma lifted her head. “Can’t she come back?”
If she could, it certainly would simplify things. But instead of voicing his thought, he shook his head. “Mama is in heaven now. Da too.” At least he hoped his father had trusted his soul to Jesus. After years of anger and bitterness, it was hard to say if his father had put faith in anything other than the bottle.
Christopher didn’t want to dwell on that possibility. “Would you like me to tell you a story?” he asked.
“What kind of story?” Emma asked, sniffing back tears.
“About when I was a little boy.”
“You were little?” Jonah asked.
Giving a chuckle, Christopher rubbed the boy’s back. “I was indeed. I looked very much like you.”
“Tell us a story about Mama,” Emma said.
“Well, you and Jonah get back under the covers, and I will do just that.”
They seemed reluctant to leave his lap. “Will you stay here?” Jonah asked.
“Just until you fall asleep.” Christopher glanced to where Darcy slept soundly on a narrow cot across the room. He couldn’t really see the child, but he heard her deep breathing. “Now, we must be very quiet so we don’t wake up your sister.”
“She won’t wake up,” Emma said. “Mama always said Darcy could sleep even with a freight train coming through the middle of her room.”
Christopher smiled. He could imagine their mother saying such a thing.
He helped the children snuggle back under the blankets and then surprised them, as well as himself, by reclining on the bed beside them. It was a good thing the narrow frame was up against the wall. Otherwise they might have all tumbled off the opposite side.
Emma and Jonah snuggled up close to Christopher. Up until this moment, they had kept him at a distance, preferring Mrs. Maynard. It touched him that they felt safe enough to rest in his arms.
“When I was Jonah’s age,” he began, “Mama would tell me stories at bedtime.”
“She told us stories, too,” Emma interjected.
“Did she tell you about the time when she rode a train for the very first time?”
Emma shook her head against his arm. “Never.”
“I ain’t never rode a train,” Jonah said.
Christopher smiled to himself. “Well, in a couple of days, we’re all going to ride a train, so I think it would be good to tell you about Ma’s first train trip. You see, she was almost a grown-up lady before she got to ride the train. She thought they were smelly and noisy and they frightened her.”
“Da used to work on the trains,” Jonah offered.
“That’s right, and that’s where Ma met him. Da was working to build a railroad track out of Chicago—that’s a big city up north where Ma and Da used to live.” Christopher smiled to himself as he remembered the way his mother’s face would light up when she told the story.
“Our mama used to help wash clothes for the railroad men. Da used to tease Ma for being afraid of the trains. He told her they were just like big carriages with iron horses instead of real ones. He told Ma if she ever rode on the train, she’d never want to ride in a wagon again.”
“And did Da take her for a ride?” Emma asked with a yawn.
“He did, indeed. He told her if she would come and ride the train with him, he’d give her something special—a big surprise.”
“A surprise? What was it?” Jonah murmured. He sounded even closer to sleep than his sister.
“He wouldn’t say what the surprise was, but he told Ma she’d be sure to like it. So Ma finally agreed to ride on the train. At first she was afraid, but Da helped her by holding her hand and telling her all about how he’d helped to build the track that they were riding on. Before she knew it, the short ride was over and she liked the train.”
Emma yawned and snuggled deeper in the covers. “But what was Da’s surprise?”
“Da gave her a big kiss—her first kiss, and our mama said she lost her heart to him.” Christopher felt tears come to his eyes. For so long now, he’d only thought of his father as callous and sour. The accident had made him that way—the prejudices of people toward his ancestry had taken their toll, as well. He’d almost let himself forget the good man their da had been—the deep love he’d shared with their mother, the love she’d held for him. Had Ma forgotten, too? Is that why she’d never told the little ones how she fell in love?
Neither child said a word. Christopher listened to their steady breathing. One more sorrow had been laid to rest, at least for the moment. Would that peace of heart and mind could be his as easily.
And Deborah. How could he bring this responsibility to her? She planned to be his bride, to share his life as a physician and helpmate. It wasn’t fair to saddle her with five grieving children. Of course, Tommy and Jimmy were hardly little ones anymore, and Darcy was quite the independent thinker. She even reminded him of Deborah. Even so, they were all still in need of guidance and direction. They weren’t old enough, any of them, to be left to their own affairs. At least as far as Christopher was concerned.
Oh, God, what am I to do? I won’t let them be sent to an orphanage. I won’t abandon my own flesh and blood. But what if Deborah wants no part of them? What if she tells me it’s her or them?
As soon as the whispered words were out of his mouth, Christopher shook his head. Deborah wasn’t like that. She would never want him to leave the children to strangers or to seek their own way. She was a compassionate and giving woman—that was one of the reasons he loved her so much.
He let go a heavy sigh and eased from the bed. He wouldn’t solve anything here tonight. Soon enough, he’d come face-to-face with Deborah and explain the situation for what it was. He was now responsible for five children, and if that was too much for her to bear with him, then he would have to let her go.
The very idea left him feeling empty inside. Perhaps even more empty and alone than he’d felt upon the news of his parents’ deaths. To lose Deborah was unthinkable. He pushed the thought aside. He would not lose her. He was determined. There would be a way to make all of this work. Of that
, he was confident. God would surely show him the answer.
Easter weekend had been a stormy one, but the Vandermarks didn’t let that stop their celebration of the resurrection. As they gathered for dinner after Sunday services, Deborah could only smile at the animated conversations around the table. Mother had invited Mr. and Mrs. Perkins, along with daughters Annabeth and Maybelle, as well as Pastor Shattuck and Mara to join them. The house was overflowing with glad hearts and good will.
Deborah found the atmosphere helpful for letting go of her worry about Christopher. She’d heard nothing from him since that first telegram. She would just have to be patient. As her mother always said, “God will show you the answer in His good time.”
“This is a feast fit for a king,” Arjan told Deborah’s mother and kissed her check.
Deborah could see the joy her mother took in his praise. She was so glad that her mother had married again. Their marriage had made the family whole again, and Deborah knew that her father smiled down approval from heaven.
“These are the best creamed peas and potatoes I’ve ever had,” Zed announced.
Mrs. Perkins smiled at Deborah’s mother. “I never had much luck with them. I always manage to get the sauce too thick or too thin.”
“Sissy made these. She can show you her tricks,” Mother offered, nodding toward the woman who sat beside Deborah.
“I shore can, Miz Perkins. Ain’t no problem. No problem at all.”
Rachel Perkins nodded. “And you can also teach me how you made those wonderful hot cross buns. I’ve never had anything that tasted so good—especially slathered in butter. I haven’t had decent butter or yeast bread in weeks.”
“Well, Lizzie churned quite a bit of butter last week,” Mother said. “I’ll send some home with you when you go.”
“That would be wonderful.” Mrs. Perkins cast a glance at her two daughters. “Perhaps Lizzie can share her secrets with you.”
Annabeth frowned. “I hate churning. I’d rather buy butter ready-made.”
Maybelle nodded. “In Houston, they have stores that carry all sorts of foods, ready for the eating.”
“Seems a waste of money to me,” their father said. “If a person can make their own, why pay someone else to do it for them?”
“Because sometimes the product is much better than anything you can make yourself,” Maybelle declared.
“That has not been my experience,” Pastor Shattuck threw in. “I cannot tell you how much more I appreciate a homemade meal, prepared by loving hands—just like this. Why, I’ve never had food this good from any restaurant or packaged item.”
Maybelle sulked but said nothing. Deborah felt sorry for her. No doubt the sisters were still encouraging their parents to move. Mother said that Mrs. Perkins was beside herself from their nagging.
Annie let out a howl of protest as Rutger reached over to take a portion of her bread. She slapped at him, but her brother was too quick. He snagged the food and yanked his arm back just before her hand slapped the table. This caused her to cry all the louder.
Lizzie took the bread from Rutger and handed it back to Annie. “Now, Son, you need to learn to leave other people’s food alone.” The boy looked up at her with a pout. Lizzie ignored it and buttered another piece of bread for him. She handed it to Rutger and gave him a pat on the head. “Now you have your own.”
Mara laughed. “I used to fight with my brother for food. He was older and ate everything that wasn’t nailed down. Aaron considered my plate free range.”
Pastor Shattuck smiled. “I remember your grandmother writing to tell me of his voracious appetite.”
The conversation moved to comments and stories of other childhood pranks and games. Deborah was glad no one seemed to notice how quiet she was. She truly was doing her best to just enjoy the day and the company of good friends. She didn’t want to be sad or troubled, for Easter was a time of renewal and hope. Pastor Shattuck had spoken to them about the Lord’s resurrection in terms of a new birth. Coming from the tomb was much like a babe being born, he had said. Jesus overcame death to be reborn into glory. She liked that thought—liked, too, that Pastor Shattuck said each of them were also reborn into eternal life when they accepted Jesus as their Savior.
“Eternity starts when you ask Jesus to forgive your sins and come into your heart. What a lovely thought.” She hadn’t meant to speak aloud and looked up, rather startled. “Sorry, I was just thinking back on the sermon.”
Pastor Shattuck smiled. “So many folks think that eternity is something they are waiting for, and while heaven is yet to come, eternal life is found in Jesus and our accepting of Him.”
“I agree,” Arjan declared. “I look forward to heaven one day, but until that time I need to remember that God has given me a life right here—that I need to live it for Him.”
“Exactly,” Deborah agreed. “Live for and with Him eternally. It’s a very pleasant thought.”
“It helps us not to miss out on the blessings He has for us,” the pastor added.
Deborah smiled and nodded. “Yes. I very much appreciated your pointing that out. It made me more mindful of not only my behavior, but of the very gift God has given in salvation.”
“Makes me feel so safe,” Mother said. “So cared for.”
“Amen,” Sissy said. “I’s also so grateful you allowed us black folk to come and share Easter service.”
“Miz Jackson, there is coming a day when folks of all colors will sit side by side in church and elsewhere,” Pastor Shattuck replied. “I very much look forward to that day.”
“So, Mr. Perkins, tell us about the new mill,” G.W. interjected.
Zed leaned back in the chair. “I don’t know all that much myself. My partners don’t seem to think it necessary to keep me apprised. I don’t know if they plan to rebuild on the old site or somewhere new.”
“How soon do you think you’ll need logs brought in?” Arjan asked.
“I can’t rightly say. I was surprised to hear that Mr. Albright and Mr. Longstreet plan to bring in finished lumber from other towns. I kind of figured we’d set up an outside mill like the old days and process enough of our own lumber to build, but they wanted no part of that. I’m not exactly sure when they’ll expect a delivery of logs.”
Arjan seemed perplexed. “But it would be less expense to process your own logs.”
G.W. frowned. “Sounds like more of Albright’s games.”
“That it does,” Mr. Perkins replied. “I figure it’s his way of holdin’ all the cards.”
“If they just get the mill up and running again,” Mother said, “it will be such a benefit to everyone. I cannot imagine Mr. Albright can go on losing money like he has and not suffer.”
“Stuart has more than enough money. His desire to have his revenge is worth whatever price he has to pay,” Lizzie stated.
“Hopefully the man will tire of his games,” Pastor Shattuck said. “We will pray it is so and that our little community can be restored.”
“Have you heard lately from Dr. Kelleher?” Mara asked Deborah.
“No, I’m afraid I only had the one telegram that let me know he’d arrived safely.”
“Oh, I feel like ten kinds of fool,” Zed said, pulling a piece of paper from his pocket. “This came for you late on Good Friday. I was rather surprised to see it. Just so happened I was dealin’ with some old railroad papers and happened to be in the office.”
He handed the telegram to Deborah and smiled. “It’s from the doc.”
She glanced at the brief note. “He’s headed back.” Her smile broadened. “He sent this just as he was leaving Kansas City.”
“What does it say?” her mother asked.
“Hardly more than what I said.” Deborah passed the telegram to Sissy, who handed it to Euphanel.
“He left Friday and hopes to be back sometime this week,” Mother announced. “That is good news.”
“We’ve been blessed that there haven’t been any accidents or probl
ems in his absence,” Annabeth declared. Maybelle nodded and both girls fixed Deborah with a rather smug expression.
“If there had been,” their father countered, “I’m guessin’ Miss Deborah woulda handled things just fine.”
“She’s a woman, Pa. It’s vulgar for her to do such things,” Maybelle said.
“Vulgar to heal a person? Vulgar to keep someone from dyin’?” G.W. asked. “Like she did for me? I can’t see it as such.”
Deborah was grateful for her brother’s support. She gave him an appreciative glance and turned her attention back to the food on her plate.
“I think we’re doing more talking than eating,” Mother said, getting to her feet. “Perhaps if I bring in dessert, you’ll feel more motivated. I have some mouth-watering strawberry shortcake, just waiting for our attention.”
“Is that with that buttery pound cake you make, Miz Vandermark?” the pastor asked.
“It is indeed. Would you care to indulge?”
He laughed. “I’ll be happy to have my portion and anyone else’s.”
Laughter filled the room. G.W. shook his head. “Nobody’s gettin’ my share. Ma makes the best pound cake I’ve ever tasted.”
“I agree,” Arjan declared.
“Then I’ll be right back, and we can all indulge together.”
G.W. pushed back from the table some time later and patted his full stomach. “I could celebrate the Lord like that every day.”
“Perhaps we should,” Lizzie said with a grin.
“And we’d all weigh as much as Miz Foster’s prized hog,” Mother replied. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to gather some of these dishes.”
“No, Mother, I’ll take care of them,” Deborah said, getting to her feet.
Mara began gathering plates. “I’ll help you.”
“Well, Sissy, it looks like we get to retire with the others to the front room.”
“Iffen you don’ mind, I’s gonna take me a Easter nap.” Sissy got up from the table, a hand upon her back. “The weather’s got my rheumatism actin’ up sumpt’n fierce.”
“By all means, go and rest. You’ve earned it.” Mother motioned to the hall. “Why don’t we retire to the living room, and I’ll bring coffee.”
Hope Rekindled Page 8
