by Jane Charles
“Again, I apologize.” She nodded her head and stepped away.
Mr. Richards rushed toward her when she stepped into the shadows of the steeple. “How are you this fine day, Miss Cooper?”
The man’s grin was wide and he offered her his arm, which Grace took. She needed to find a way to discourage his suit, but she did not want to be rude in the process. “I am well, thank you.”
“And your father? How is he getting on?”
At least Mr. Richards’ question seemed sincere. Unfortunately, she could not say the same for some of the others in the village. “Papa is about the same.”
The smile fell from Mr. Richards’ face. “I am sorry to hear that. There is no hope for improvement?”
It saddened her to say so, but knew she must face the truth. “It has been two years since the accident. I do not expect any further improvement.”
“Miracles do happen.”
Grace would love to be encouraged by Mr. Richards’ words, but gave up hope long ago that her father would ever speak again. “I pray every day, but have come to accept this is my father’s future.”
Mr. Richards patted her hand. “Might I escort you home?” He gestured to his carriage not far away.
Grace would love to ride home, but again, did not want to offer any further encouragement. “No thank you, but it was kind of you to offer.”
She broke away from Mr. Richards and walked toward the hill. If she took the road, he would probably ride along beside her until she reached her destination. Besides, she had been gone long enough and the shorter route would get her back to papa quicker. Grace tightened the ribbon under her chin to secure her bonnet and glanced back. The new vicar watched her, a frown on his face. She did not acknowledge him and began her trek.
What did he find so disapproving of her? Granted, she was late this morning, but should one be judged so quickly on one instance? She certainly hoped this was not his normal disposition. He didn’t even smile when he delivered the blessing, or sang. Being forgiven was a wonderful thing and should make a person happy. Perhaps the new vicar didn’t know how to smile, which would be very sad indeed because laughter was the most wonderful thing in the world. She certainly hoped he didn’t come here to judge and take all the enjoyment from the community. That would not be good. Not good at all. Further, she would not allow it to happen.
That horn was going to drive Matthew to Bedlam. Perhaps it wasn’t the toot itself, but the fact that when he thought the child was done and Matthew was able to return to drafting out the notes for his next sermon, the noise sounded again. On top of that, the horn was out of tune. How could anyone work with such noise?
With the quill poised and ready to dip into the ink he waited. The horn had sounded six times already. Was it safe to continue or would the racket begin once more? He counted to ten. Nothing. He dipped the quill. Still nothing. Finally, silence.
Matthew put the tip to parchment. The horn screeched and a shout rang out. Startled, his arm jerked and the quill scratched across the parchment, ruining the entire page. He shoved back his chair, stood and marched to the window. He arrived just in time to see stacks of wood from a small, poorly built fort, tumble to the ground. Children stood around the structure cheering. In the middle of this group was Miss Cooper. It was Sunday afternoon, why were these children not home with their families? He turned from the window, grabbed his coat and stomped out the back door of the parsonage and strode to the park-like setting behind the church.
A little girl with blond curls looked up at the young woman. “Did it happen just like that, Miss Cooper?”
“Something like that. But Jericho was much, much bigger. Why, the walls that fell surrounded an entire city.”
The children’s eyes grew wide with astonishment.
An eager young boy pulled at her skirt. “What happened next?”
She turned to one of the older lads. “Perhaps you should read, James.”
A boy, whom Matthew assumed was James, picked up the Bible lying on a blanket under the tree. The children gathered around him and settled on the ground to hear more of the accounting.
“Good afternoon, Miss Cooper, children.”
Miss Cooper jumped and turned to look at him. A hand came up to her throat as if startled by his presence. The children became silent in an instant, their eyes wide, almost as if they were frightened of him. He couldn’t imagine why. They didn’t even know him and he certainly wasn’t someone who instilled fear in children. At least he didn’t think he did.
“Vicar Trent, what a surprise.”
For a moment, he was taken aback. He had never seen such green eyes sparkle with happiness before. It must be the sun’s reflection because he was sure they were not as green this morning outside of the church. Some of her hair had come loose and rich, mahogany curls framed her face. He took his focus off of her and looked around at the gathering. “Might I ask what you are doing?”
“Reenacting the fall of Jericho.” She answered and gestured to the logs lying on the ground. “As you can see, the walls have now fallen.”
“To what purpose?”
“This is Sunday School. We have lessons every Sunday after the meal.”
Matthew glanced at Miss Cooper and then the children. He moved away from the gathering and gestured for Miss Cooper to follow him to a place further from the children.
She frowned and followed him.
Matthew glanced behind them. The children should not be able to hear them.
“I thought Sunday school was for learning how to read, write and other such things, Matthew asked in a low voice.
She brought her hand up to her chin and appeared to give his words some consideration for a moment. “I suppose that is one purpose.”
“Then shouldn’t the children be reading from their Bible instead of playacting.”
Her face lit with excitement. “They learn so much more when they can pretend and take parts.”
“So they have already read the story.” Perhaps he needed to explain to her the reason for Sunday school so she could go about teaching the children in a proper way. It was a fairly new concept for the purpose of educating the poor, teaching them to read, write, cipher, and such.
“No, I told them. We were just about to read what came next.”
Miss Cooper clearly did not understand her role as the teacher. Perhaps she was too young. Maybe there was someone who was better suited for the position, such as an older, mature woman who would not want to play with the students. He pinched the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger and thought about how to explain.
“I am glad you are going to read now, but wouldn’t the children learn more if they had read the story from the beginning?”
She shook her head and frowned. “They enjoy this part and I see no harm.”
“No harm?” He threw his hands up and paced before her. “The children need to learn how to read, understand grammar. They cannot do that if you tell them the stories they are to read for themselves.”
Her forehead scrunched. “Vicar Trent, the purpose of this Sunday School is to teach Bible stories.”
He stopped and stared at her. “Then who is teaching them to read, and all those other subjects children need to learn in school?” He didn’t mean to raise his voice, but the young woman was beyond frustrating. A few of the children glanced over at him.
“Mr. Petty, the school teacher,” Miss Cooper leaned in and whispered. “Once they are of age, the children attend during the week.”
He closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair. Nobody told him there was a school in the village.
Grace glanced back at the children. They were having such fun until he came along. Now they were frightened as poor rabbits cornered by a fox. His stance was so rigid and there wasn’t even a hint of a smile. He was much too serious. “Would you care to join us? The children would learn so much more from you, I am sure.”
His eyes grew wide, his mouth formed an odd shape,
as if he had tasted something quite horrid and he took a step back. “I do not think so, Miss Cooper.”
“Miss Cooper?”
She turned to James. “Yes?”
“What is pro… st . . prost… I don’t know this word.”
How could she have forgotten Rahab was a prostitute? Heat infused her cheeks. She certainly didn’t want to explain such a profession. “Don’t worry about it,” She called back to him before she turned to face Vicar Trent. His mouth was pursed, the left side tilted at a slight angle, his left eyebrow raised. Was he smirking at her? How dare he!
Her face burned. She turned her back on the man and looked back at James. “What is important is that Rahab hid the spies and helped Joshua.”
The boy shrugged his shoulders and appeared happy with the explanation.
“Why don’t you children pick up the wood and stack it so Vicar Trent will have kindling for his fire.”
Without a word, they went to work, gathering the branches and small logs and she focused her attention back on Vicar Trent’s light blue eyes and a mixture of mortification, vexation and embarrassment settled into the pit of her stomach. This second impression was worse than the first, and she had only met him three hours ago.
He turned and walked away from her and the children, his hands clasped behind his back. Grace hurried to catch up and matched her steps with his. Not sure how to proceed, she too clasped her hands behind her and mimicked his movements.
“Explain to me, Miss Cooper, why it is necessary to have Sunday school when there is already a school?”
Did the man not listen before? “To teach them Bible stories.”
“Why can’t they be taught in school?” He continued walking, his head down, as if he was pondering her questions and answers.
“There is not enough time.”
He stopped and turned to look at her. “Are they not in school all day?”
Why did she feel like she was in trouble somehow when she had done nothing wrong? “No. Only in the morning. Many of the children are needed at home for chores.”
“Ah.” He nodded his head, turned and continued to walk.
“Very few villages have schools. We are lucky to have Mr. Petty. He tutored all of Lord Crews’ boys, until they were old enough to go to school. The council offered him a cottage and a small pittance if he would stay and teach.”
“I see,” Vicar Trent mumbled.
What did he see?
“And this Mr. Petty does not have time to add Biblical teachings to his lessons?”
“I already said he did not.” Could this man not remember what was said to him but a few moments ago? Did he have an ailment of some sort which affected his memory?
Vicar Trent stopped and brought his hand up to rub his chin. “Perhaps I should speak to this teacher.”
Grace stepped in front of him and fought the panic. “Please, do not.”
He looked down at her. “Why ever not?”
She had to make her argument convincing, but who was he to decide to make changes after living in the village for not even a full week. She fisted her hands and placed them on her hips. “As I said, he does not have time. And second, teaching Sunday school is my job.”
His eyebrows rose in surprise. “They pay you to teach these children?”
She took a step back, a bit offended by his tone, as if she were not worthy. “Yes, they do.”
He crossed his arms over his chest and tapped his right foot. If that wasn’t bad enough, he narrowed his eyes as if judging her. “Exactly what are you qualifications?”
Qualifications? Did one now need to be qualified to teach children the Bible? “I love children and I know the Bible.”
“It sounded to me as if you were merely playing?”
Grace clenched her jaw tight to keep from saying anything rude or worse, something completely inappropriate to say to a vicar. She inhaled through her nostrils. Who was he that he could judge her? She forced herself to relax and blew out a breath. I will remain calm. “As I said, the children enjoy acting out the stories. They take much more from them than simply reading it in the Bible.”
He pivoted on his heel and put his hands behind his back once more, but did not walk back. The children were still carrying sticks to the woodpile beside the parsonage and stacked them neatly beside the already seasoned wood. “Then might I suggest that you teach quieter next time.”
Oh dear, they had disturbed him. No wonder he was irritated. Grace hurried to catch up. “I am sorry. Were you working on something very important?”
He stopped and looked down at her again. “Next week’s sermon.”
Already? “But that is not until next week.”
“Miss Cooper much goes into making a sermon perfect.”
“Isn’t the Lord’s word already perfect?”He blew out an exasperated sigh and looked up to the sky. “This from a woman who made the walls of Jericho out of a bunch of twigs.” He turned to her, his face rigid and Grace feared she had gone too far. “Man, however is not.”
She had a hard time believing it took an entire week to write a sermon. Then again, he did ask a lot of repetitive questions today. Perhaps his memory truly was faulty and it did take him that long to remember his words.
She returned to the children who were waiting further instructions now that the wood had been neatly stacked and ready for use this winter. .
James ran up to them. “Is our lesson done?”
Grace smiled down at the three dozen eager faces. She loved each and every one of them. “That is all for the day. Why don’t you gather on the blankets? I’ll be over in a moment.”
They ran to the shaded area set up for their lessons. Tommy jumped up in the middle of the group. “But what happens after they gain access to the city?” He wielded a stick as a sword. “Did they kill the enemy?”
The children laughed at his antics.
“The Word of God is nothing to laugh about,” Vicar Trent said only loud enough for her ears. “What you are learning is not fiction.” Vicar Trent turned to stomp back toward the house.
Grace raced after him. “There is nothing wrong with laughter. I am sure even Jesus laughed on occasion.”
Vicar Trent stopped and straightened and turned to her. “Where did you ever get such a ludicrous idea?”
Oh dear, now she had really made him angry. “I assumed…”
“Assuming is what gets everyone in trouble. It is hard enough to avoid sin when we know what the law is. It is impossible when we start making up parts about our Savior’s life.”
Grace took a step back and crossed her arms over her chest. How dare he chastise her? “And you know for a fact that Jesus never laughed.”
“It is not in the Bible.” He stepped forward and towered over her.
They stood toe to toe, both with arms crossed, challenging the other. “Not everything is in the Bible.”
“Are you calling the Word of God inaccurate or incomplete?”
“Of course not.” She threw up her hands but refused to back down. “We know when Jesus was born.” She held up her thumb. “We know as a child he disappeared from his parents to go to his Father’s House.” She stuck up her index finger. “And, we know that at the age of thirty he began his mission to save us.”
“And nowhere does it say Jesus laughed.”
“There are a lot of years missing, Vicar Trent.” Honestly, she’d never met a more aggravating man.
“So you have decided to make up stories about what he did during this time?” He threw his hands up as if disgusted and walked away. He turned and pointed at her. “Danger lies in making such suppositions, Miss Cooper.”
“How? By believing Jesus may have laughed. How is that sinful?”
“He was the Son of God, sent to this world to save us. He had a very serious role.”
“And, he was a child for a good portion of it. You can’t believe he never once ran and played with friends.”
“He was a serious boy, which scripture
has shown.”
“Yes, it does provide that evidence,” Grace admitted with some reluctance. “But I find it hard to believe he didn’t have some happiness. His first miracle occurred at a celebration.”
“True.” Vicar Trent nodded his head, and then took a step forward. “However, it was for the benefit of others.”
It saddened her to think that Jesus never laughed and she could not accept the possibility. “How could a man, so full of compassion and love, so much so that he gave up his life, not have known the feeling of joy? I am sorry. I cannot accept that God would not have allowed his own son to find happiness while on this earth, no matter how fleeting.”
Vicar Trent stared at her. A few times he opened his mouth as if he were going to speak, but closed it again. After a moment, he turned and stalked away.
Goodness that had not gone well.
Matthew paced in his study, grumbled and paced some more. He couldn’t believe the audacity of that woman. How dare she question him on something as simple as laughter? It further aggravated him that she may be correct. He had always envisioned Jesus as a serious child, going about his Father’s work and helping his earthly father before he went out into the world. Was it farfetched to believe he may have laughed and played? Just because he hadn’t been allowed to laugh and play as a child didn’t mean Jesus hadn’t.
He shook the thoughts from his mind. He didn’t want to question what he always believed to be true. Such questions lead to further questions and soon one’s faith was in question. He would not sink into that sin. It had been a constant battle for as long as he could remember to not question and wonder and he couldn’t let it happen now. This was the first church he had been assigned to and he could not be the perfect vicar for his parishioners if he started wondering about things, even as minor as if Jesus laughed. Besides, Miss Cooper and the children may have the freedom to laugh but he did not. His work was for a serious gentleman. If one was to preach the word of God, he had to be above reproach and respected. One did not gain respect by playing with sticks. He stopped by the window and glanced out. Just because he hadn’t been allowed the same freedom as a child did not make it wrong. He could see how her teaching methods would be beneficial and perhaps it was a better way to learn for the younger children.
