Loving Liza Jane

by Unknown

  Molly crawled off his lap and began to toddle around the tree, bending to pick up a small stick and then tossing it back in favor of a different one. Ben watched her momentarily and then went back to the advertisement.

  The name Sarah Woodward cemented itself in his mind. He’d studied each entry carefully and always his eyes traveled back to hers.

  My name is Sarah Woodward. I am a fine, upstanding Christian woman looking for a Christian man with whom to build a home. I am an enthusiastic person who is not afraid of work. I dearly love children. I stand five feet six inches tall, and am what you would call fine-boned, aptly filled out, and well bred. I have red hair that people often refer to as flaming and blue-green eyes, better known as hazel, I suppose.

  I enjoy housekeeping duties and am an especially excellent cook. I shall do my best to make some Christian man a fine wife.

  **Please contact this agency at the above noted address for further information. Any one of these women will be happy to correspond prior to making traveling arrangements. All impending costs will be the responsibility of the prospective groom.

  Ben folded the paper neatly and put it back into his pocket. What was he doing by holding on to this silly advertisement? Did he actually think that sending for a bride was a workable solution? On the one hand, it would solve the issue of caring for his children and managing the household chores. Mrs. Granger was leaving for St. Louis in a matter of days. On the other hand, what if this Sarah Woodward turned out to be completely incompatible?

  Flaming red hair…hazel eyes…tall and curved. She sounded like his Miranda, except for the red hair.

  Was that it, then? Was he looking for a replacement for his dead wife, someone whose looks, work ethic, and personality matched those of Miranda Broughton? The notion both shamed and enticed him. Of course, it wouldn’t be fair to Miss Sarah Woodward if he spent his days comparing the two of them. Then again, she’d never know if he didn’t let on.

  It would be good to have a woman around the house again.

  And the more he thought about it, the more appealing it sounded.

  The clip-clop of an approaching horse stole his attention. Quickly he sought out Molly and found her intent on something near her feet, clumsily trying to bend over it without toppling.

  “Hullo there, Benjamin,” came a booming voice.

  Surprised to see Rocky Callahan reining in his horse, Ben pulled himself up from his place under the tree and walked toward his friend, keeping one eye on Molly as he did so.

  “Hi, Rocky. Arriving for church, are you?” At close range he noted dark circles beneath the man’s eyes. As rough-hewn and brawny as he was, the pain still showed in his weary expression.

  “Naw. Thought I’d ride into town and see if Sam is at the livery. I got to pick up some shoes he’s been working on for one of my horses.”

  “I see.” Choosing his words carefully, Ben squinted up at the fellow, the bright sun’s rays blocking all but his broad physique. “How have you been, Rock?”

  Ben thought once again that he knew the pain of losing a wife, but he couldn’t imagine life without his daughters. Not a day went by that he didn’t thank the Lord for both of them, as difficult as it sometimes was raising them on his own.

  “I’ve been better.”

  Distant memories registered of Miranda and him socializing with Rocky and Hester before either of them had started families. They’d been so happy back then, playing games on weekends, talking and singing, laughing and joking, and never dreaming of what lay ahead. It was a paradox of cruel proportions that both he and Rocky had lost wives in their late twenties. Even crueler that Rocky had lost his only child to an incurable fever that took days to run its course. Whenever he thought of it, Ben’s heart ached.

  “I don’t pretend to know what it’s like to lose a child, Rocky,” Ben said, taking another wistful look back at Molly, who by now had plopped herself in a pile of dirt. “But I do relate to the pain of losing a wife.”

  “Yeah, well, I guess you know that it’s not easy.”

  “I do.” Ben looked at the toe of his boot and kicked at a stray leaf. “What have you been doing with yourself? You’ve made yourself pretty scarce. I looked for you at the church picnic last month.”

  “I got no cause for celebration.”

  “Maybe not,” Ben reasoned, praying for the right words, “but a lot of folks missed you just the same.” Rocky’s horse spooked and sidestepped, giving Ben a better angle with which to study his friend’s long face. “Truth is it’d do you good to come around more. It can’t be healthy for you to stay holed up out there at your place day after day.”

  Rocky cursed under his breath. In his own human state even Ben had slipped a time or two with his tongue, but he’d never heard Rocky use a blasphemous word as long as he’d known him. The realization stunned him, but he didn’t let on. Instead he berated himself for not keeping better track of how his friend was feeling.

  “You know, Rock, sometimes you just have to lift your head up and look to God. He’s the best source of strength I know.”

  Rocky sneered. He gazed out over the horizon as if to measure his words before spewing them. “Don’t preach to me about God’s love, Ben,” he said evenly. “I heard it all before from folks. Hardly a day goes by but what my own Ma don’t come out and hound me to get back to church.”

  “She only wants what’s best for you.”

  Unlike Ben’s worldly-wise upbringing, Rocky’s had been sound both spiritually and otherwise. Ben hadn’t found God until his late teen years, after he’d met and fallen in love with Miranda. In fact, he had her to thank for introducing him to the Lord. Oh, his grandfather had known God, of that he was certain; but it had taken the love of a pretty young woman to set his mind straight on eternal matters.

  “I reckon, but I could do with less preaching. Everyone seems to have all the answers. ‘Why, it was the Lord’s will the way He took Hester and your boy home before their time,’” Rocky said sarcastically, nodding in the direction of the church. “Do folks in there actually think I find those words comforting?”

  “I don’t know what they think, Rock. Mostly they don’t know what to say, and so they figure anything is better than nothing.”

  Rocky shrugged. “I’d rather they’d leave me alone.”

  Ben took an unsteady breath. “I don’t believe you mean that.”

  Rocky took off his hat and dashed his fingers through thick, dark strands of hair, then situated the dusty thing back on his head. A soulful rendition of “Amazing Grace” wafted through the open windows of the church. “I best be going.”

  “Come on out to the house sometime,” Ben offered. “My cooking isn’t much, but I’d be obliged if you’d join us for supper. I been working on my grandpap’s cabin for the new schoolteacher. I could use an extra hand.”

  “New schoolteacher, eh? I heard she arrived.” He looked out over the distant terrain. “My Joseph would have been five years old this fall,” he continued. “S’pect he would have been starting school.”

  Knowing it was pointless to comment, Ben simply nodded. “Might do you good to get your mind off your troubles for a change.”

  Rocky snapped back to attention. “Yeah, I might swing by sometime.” But even as he spoke the words, Ben knew they weren’t genuine. Tipping his hat at Ben, he gave a mechanical smile. “Good seein’ ya, Ben.”

  And off he rode, bigger-than-life shoulders drooping, body swaying, as he turned his horse in the direction of Sam’s Livery.

  ***

  Reverend Miller was a round little man with scant white hair combed over the top of his head to give the appearance of more hair. His searing eyes, filled with wit and wisdom, seemed to reach into a body’s depth, making the already warm room seem all the hotter. He spoke with such passion that beads of perspiration formed on his brow and dripped slowly down his wrinkled face, creating little droplets at the bottom of his chin and eventually falling onto the pulpit below. Liza imagined a littl
e pool of salt water mixing with his sermon notes, blurring the inky words.

  A few rows back discontented children squirmed and whined until the sounds of shushing parents quelled their cries. Liza could hardly blame the youngsters for their restless behavior. The room had to be pushing ninety degrees.

  The stench of body odor wafted over the slow-moving air current, forcing Liza to go for her handkerchief. She cleared her throat and glanced down at Lili Broughton, who had sidled up next to her, claiming Liza as her friend.

  “We should all think of our life on this earth as an assignment,” the reverend said, his now twinkling eyes resting on Liza. She shifted in her seat, waiting for what would come next. She noticed he didn’t mince words.

  “There’s more to Christianity than meets the eye, my friends,” he challenged. “Serving Christ means serving others as well.”

  “I’m sure the good teacher here would agree that assignments require extra time and commitment. Isn’t that right, miss?”

  Liza smiled and nodded, feeling the eyes of the congregants fall to her.

  “Well, dear people, the same is true of God. One day you will stand before Him and He will issue you a final exam. The Bible says in Romans 14:10–12, ‘For we shall all stand before the judgment seat of Christ. For it is written, As I live, saith the Lord, every knee shall bow to me, and every tongue shall confess to God. So then every one of us shall give account of himself to God.’

  “Our heavenly Father wants each of us to pass that exam.” Again, Reverend Miller looked at Liza. “It’s always nice to be on the teacher’s good side now, isn’t it?” Laughter filled the room, and Lili sidled in closer.

  “Because God, our teacher, wants us to spend eternity with Him, He has already told us what questions we can expect on this exam. How wonderful it would be if every teacher would give us the questions in advance. We would know exactly what to study for.” A couple of snickers followed.

  “What’s the questions, preacher?” asked a small voice from the third row. Folks tittered with amusement at the child’s barefaced

  curiosity. Liza hoped the young fellow was a future student.

  “Well now, I’m getting to that, son,” Reverend Miller said with a ready grin. “The first thing God will want to ask is, did you believe in His Son Jesus Christ.” He looked out over his parishioners, as if to size each member up. “He won’t ask you about your background, your degree of wealth, or your job. He won’t ask you how many times you darkened the church door, and He won’t even ask you how much money you put into that offering plate. No sir. The only thing that will matter to God is, did you accept the gift that His Son Jesus offered you, and did you learn to love Him and trust Him with all of your heart?

  “According to John 14:6, ‘Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life: no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.’”

  The entire room grew so silent you could have heard two flies in conversation. “And that is the first question God will ask.”

  “What’s the second question?” the same little child asked.

  “Ah, yes, the second question.” Reverend Miller tugged at his plump, round chin. “I suspect He will ask you what you did with your life—your gifts, your talents, your relationships. Did you spend all of your energy on yourself, trying to please just you? Or did you pour out your life on others? Did you strive to be generous and thoughtful, putting others before yourself? Or did you live only for your own pleasures?

  “Tough assignment?” he asked, invoking deep thought. “It’s up to you to make good choices, my friends. God wants you to spend eternity with Him. Be sure you are ready with the right answers when He asks you the questions.”

  The Reverend’s words stayed with Liza, even as folks circled around her after the service to introduce themselves. Later, she would take the time to ponder his words more carefully. Yes, and she would make a point to study her Bible more diligently. God knew she needed every ounce of wisdom available before beginning the school year.

  Lili stayed close by as folks, too many to count, gathered around to meet the new teacher. There were the Haywards, an elderly couple; the James family, with twin toddlers and, from the looks of it, another on the way; the Bentleys, newly married; and several others whose names she hadn’t caught.

  Just when Liza thought she’d met most everyone, a slender woman approached from across the aisle. “Miss Merriwether, I’m Bess Barrington. You’ll be teachin’ my youngins, Erlene and Thomas. My girl’s six and my Thom is eleven.” The woman quickly pulled her children out in front of her. Erlene offered up a shy, tiny-toothed grin, while Thomas merely tipped his chin with practiced politeness.

  “Hello. I shall look forward to getting to know both of you better,” Liza said.

  “If you have any problems at all, you be sure to let me know, you hear?” Mrs. Barrington said. “The husband and me believe in a good education, and we expect our kids to behave themselves.”

  “Well, I appreciate that. I’m sure we’ll do just fine.” Since Thom looked especially embarrassed, Liza gave him a reassuring smile, after which he dipped his head to study his worn-out shoes.

  “And this here is Sarah Jenkins. She’s thirteen,” Lili announced when a freckle-faced girl broke through the circle. Brown hair parted in the middle fell in two long braids, and a bright smile revealing crooked teeth seemed only to add to the girl’s charm.

  “I’m happy to meet you, Sarah.”

  “I been itchin’ to meet ya, but my ma and pa told me I best be patient. They said school would start soon enough and then I’d be swimmin’ in homework instead o’ the creek.”

  “Well, I should hope there’ll still be time for swimming when school starts, Sarah. I’d hate to think we’ll let all that lovely autumn sunshine go to waste.”

  Everyone shared a light laugh. “Well now, it’s nice to see that the new teacher is getting plenty of attention.” Reverend Miller’s friendly voice cut through the laughter as he inched his way to the center of the affable crowd.

  “Reverend Miller!” shouted Lili. The man smiled knowingly and then reached deep into his pockets. Moments later, he pulled out a handful of candy sticks, and several eager little hands opened wide for the generous offering.

  Warmed by the gesture, Liza smiled widely. “I enjoyed your sermon, sir.”

  “I thank you for that, ma’am. I hope it was taken in the manner in which it was intended.” His bright eyes scanned the circle of worshippers as several nodded and mumbled their assent.

  “It sure was, Reverend,” replied a tall man on the outside of the circle. All eyes and ears turned toward the mellow-sounding voice, including those of Liza. She couldn’t remember having met the rather lanky yet sturdy-looking fellow with sandy hair and sun-browned skin. “We all needed to hear those fine words of challenge and insight.”

  “Well, Jonathan Atkins. Surely is good to see you again, son. Just look at you. How have you been? Are you finished with your schooling, then? Have you met the new teacher?” It was plain the Reverend was partial to him the way he endlessly crooned.

  “I couldn’t be better; yes, I am; and no, I can’t say that I have,” he replied in one concise sentence, friendly as could be, poking his way through the parting crowd until he came face-to-face with Liza, his long-fingered hand outstretched to take hers. A keen smile revealed straight, white teeth. “But I should like to now.”

  His grip was firm, his acutely blue eyes penetrating in much the same way as those of the preacher. Liza’s immediate instinct was to withdraw, but she let him hold her hand until he dropped it gently to her side. “I’m pleased to meet you, miss,” he said with a hint of a southern drawl that also contained a certain quality of refinement. A southern gentleman, she mused.

  “Jonathan has been away at seminary,” the reverend announced. “And a fine Bible scholar he’s become,” he hastened to add.

  “We sure are proud of him,” chimed in a scrawny fellow with tattered shirt and worn workpan
ts. “He growed up in these here parts and come out lookin’ clean as a whistle. All edjekated and ever’thin’, ‘magine that.”

  Jonathan laughed heartily. “These folks are slightly biased, as you may have noticed. Please don’t mind them. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I hope you’re adjusting to life in Little Hickman.”

  His friendly demeanor and casual reaction to the rash of compliments was indeed refreshing. “Yes, thank you.”

  “You hail from Boston, do you?” he asked. Apparently, someone had already enlightened him as to her background.

  “I do.”

  “Nice town. I’ve only been once, mind you. A dear friend of mine attends the University. I must say its beautiful waterfront and historic value impressed me a great deal. I should like to return some day.”

  Awed by his genteel manner and speech, Liza found herself staring into his compelling eyes, drawn by the warmth of his smile. “Yes, it is a lovely place. I always enjoy talking to people who have visited so that I may hear their observations.”

  “Perhaps we will talk more then,” he said with a smile.

  “I should like nothing more.”

  His eyes flashed with warmth. “Then it’s settled. I’ll call on you soon.”

  “Jonathan.” The smooth voice from behind captured everyone’s attention.

  “Benjamin!” Benjamin Broughton stood on the fringes of the crowd, a sleeping daughter in his arms. For reasons unbeknownst to Liza, her heart wobbled at the sight.

  “Excuse me, miss,” Jonathan said, leaving her side to amble through the masses in the direction of Mr. Broughton.

  “Ben, you old brute, you.”

  The two went into a bear hug, mercilessly squeezing the child between them, but not disturbing her slumber in the least. Ben shifted her to one arm and took up talking with Jonathan. At that, the crowd dispersed, including Lili, who immediately went to her father’s side after bidding Liza good-bye. Liza saw the leave-taking as an opportunity to slip out the back door.

  She might have escaped unnoticed, except for Mr. Broughton’s final words.