by Janice Hanna
Late that afternoon, the reverend stopped by. He was kind enough, even offering to tutor her in what the Bible had to say about child-rearing. She found herself growing uncomfortable with the length, width, and breadth of his dissertation and prayed that tomorrow morning’s sermon wouldn’t be quite as dull as this speech.
His words were cut short by an act of fate—or, rather, the act of a small boy throwing a rock at the dining room window and shattering it into tiny shards all over the room. This was, thank goodness, enough to send the reverend packing. The incident left Rena shaken, however. As she swept up the glass, she thought about her own fragile emotions. They weren’t in much better shape right now than this window, were they? If only someone would sweep in and piece her shattered thoughts and emotions together again. Then, perhaps, she could handle everything.
By the time the day wound down, Rena was exhausted. She was also extremely confused about the children’s names. Determined to find a solution to that dilemma, she pulled out her notebook and made a list:
Lilly: The youngest girl. Six? Seven? Black hair. Precious smile. Speaks with a lisp. Shows a lot of emotion, both good and bad. Cries, kisses, and hugs a lot. Wets the bed. Like so many of the children, was left homeless after a tornado swept through Atoka County two years ago.
Callie: Lilly’s older sister. Maybe nine or so? Matted dark brown hair. Not as precocious. Stares at her reflection in the mirror a lot but doesn’t appear to like what she sees. Very protective of her younger sister.
Josephine: Blond. Approximately eleven years old. Comes from money and doesn’t seem to be adjusting well to having none. According to Carolina, both parents died in a house fire last year. No living relatives.
Rena’s thought shifted to the boys. What a handful they were! Why hadn’t the sheriff warned her in his letter that the new director would be walking into the equivalent of a barroom brawl, only with younger participants?
She paused to think about each boy and then began writing.
Wesley: Stringy blond hair. Needs a haircut. Ten years old. Likes to talk about his grandfather, who was a (supposed) hero in the War between the States.
Oliver: Light brown hair, a bit too long. About eight years old. Repeats everything everyone says. Will have to figure out a way to stop this annoying habit. Another parentless victim of the tornado.
Mochni: Atoka boy. Beautiful dark skin. Claims to be a distant relative of Choctaw warrior Captain Atoka. His name means “Talking Bird.” That would account for the nonstop chatter.
Kenny and Kieren: Twin boys from Ireland. Came by ship with their mother, who died en route to Tulsa two and a half years ago. The boys talk at length about the big ship that brought them here, and both hope to be captains. Or pirates. I’m not sure which.
Mikey, Bubba, and Tree: Three sandy-haired boys with dirty faces who all hail from the same family. Ages range from six to ten. Maybe. Tree, the little one, could be a bit younger. (Note: I have no idea why any well-meaning parent would name a child Tree. A nickname, perhaps? ) Parents dropped off the boys at the orphanage after the tornado destroyed their home because they couldn’t afford to feed them. Promised to be back in a few weeks to pick them up but moved on to another state and never returned.
Henry: Oldest of the pack. Maybe fourteen or fifteen? Threatens to run away. Disgruntled. Says the last director worked him like a slave. I’m inclined to believe him. He’s strong and aggressive and plays the role of instigator with ease. No one is quite sure how he came to be orphaned. Rumor has it that his father is still alive.
Several other faces came into view, but Rena couldn’t remember the boys’ names. Hopefully she would keep them all straight before too long. In the meantime, she needed her rest. Tomorrow would be a busy day.
She fell into a fitful sleep, the list at her side. Her dreams were complicated and filled with fearful images of children, ragged and thin. When she awoke the next morning, Rena could hardly collect her thoughts. She had no choice, however. The boys and girls needed supervision…and from the sound of things, sooner, rather than later. As she dressed, several of the names she’d forgotten came to mind: David, Timmy, Joseph, Nate, and Evan. She would have to remember to add them to her list. When things settled down, of course.
She made her way downstairs, helped Carolina prepare breakfast, then rang the bell. The children arrived at the table, dressed and raring to go. She could hardly believe her luck. Every last one of them was clean, pressed, and smiling.
Lilly wore a heavy coat over her clothes. For that matter, all the boys and girls wore sweaters or coats.
“Are you cold?” she asked.
Callie gave a little shiver. “Yes, ma’am. I’m always cold in the mornings. I’ll be fine in my sweater, though.”
“It’s chilly out this morning,” Henry said. “If’n we’re gonna walk to church, we need to stay warm.”
“Well, this oatmeal will warm you up.” Carolina appeared from the kitchen. “So take a seat, all of you. Eat up.”
Rena joined the children at the table for a quick breakfast. About halfway into the meal, Oliver rose to grab the sugar bowl, only to discover that one of the boys—likely Henry, judging from the laughter—had tied his shoelaces to the table leg. Oliver appeared to take it in stride but spent the rest of the meal repeating every word Henry spoke.
After breakfast, Rena instructed the children to make their beds. Out of the corners of her eyes, she gave Callie a “remember what we talked about yesterday?” look, and the little girl nodded. There would be wet sheets waiting for her under Lilly’s bed, no doubt.
The children scurried around the house more obediently than usual. Afterward, Rena gathered them together, gave a few instructions, and—with her heart in her throat—led them down the road to the church. She had to wonder about two things: how the children would behave in church, and why they were all suspiciously good this morning.
They arrived at the church and the children scurried off to their classroom. She followed behind them, introduced herself to their teacher, a Mrs. O’Shea, and then headed to the sanctuary to locate Jenny Jamison, who had offered to sit with her.
As she rounded the corner, she ran headfirst into Gene Wyatt, dressed in his Sunday best.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I…” She felt her cheeks grow warm as she glanced up into his handsome face. Then she took in his attire. If he’d looked good in his work clothes, he impressed her even more in the striped jacket and cuffed trousers he wore. The white dress shirt with its winged collar was impressive too, as well as the dark tie. My goodness, if he doesn’t clean up nice…. Why, he could give any of the fellows back in Gulfport a run for their money, no doubt about it.
“No problem.” His blue eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief. “Good to see you again, Miss Jewel.”
“Rena.” She couldn’t help the smile that nearly gave away her embarrassment at being so close to him. “Please call me Rena.”
He gave her a little nod. “Rena it is. You settling in all right?”
“As well as can be expected.”
He placed his hand on her arm, the look on his face growing more serious. “If you’re ever not fine, please let me know. I know you’ll have questions and concerns, and we’re here for you. You don’t have to handle the children on your own, I promise.”
“That helps a lot,” she whispered.
The reverend walked by and glanced over at them, and Gene removed his hand from her arm. Rena’s cheeks heated up right away. She muttered a few words and then slipped into the back of the little chapel to search for Jenny Jamison. She’d just settled into the pew next to her when the children’s Sunday school teacher appeared, looking frazzled.
“Miss Jewel, could you come with me?”
Oh no. Not so soon. We just got here. Rena followed behind her to the classroom. Once inside, she glanced at the children. They all sat in their chairs, still and silent. Why in the world had their teacher found the need to fetch her?
On seco
nd glance, something about the children seemed…off. Amiss.
Rena gave them another look. “For heaven’s sake.” Lilly’s dress was inside out. For that matter, so were Oliver’s slacks. And his shirt. And Callie’s dress. Rena scanned the group, stunned to find that every single one of them had shown up with clothing inside out.
The snickers filled the room, and before long all the children in the place erupted into laughter. In fact, they made so much noise that Rena wondered if the folks in church could hear them.
She gestured for the girls to join her. Lilly, Callie, and Josephine followed on her heels. Rena located a small water closet and instructed the girls to go inside and dress properly. Once they were situated back inside the classroom, she went in search of the sheriff. Hopefully he could help her with the boys.
She found that he’d taken her seat next to Miss Jamison and was all smiles as the two engaged in conversation. Just as an elderly woman took her seat at the piano up front, Rena managed a quick, “Sheriff, I need you.”
Perhaps not the best choice of words. And maybe she shouldn’t have raised her voice, but to be heard over the piano-playing was nearly impossible.
“I mean, the children need you,” she said. “There’s a problem with the boys.”
Several of the women turned to look her way then began to whisper among themselves. Chief among them was a petite older woman with soft white curls. She appeared to be glaring at Rena.
“What else is new?” the woman said, rolling her eyes.
Rena turned to face her as the sheriff slipped out of the pew and headed off toward the Sunday school classroom, muttering, “I’ll handle it, whatever it is.”
The older woman with the sour expression marched Rena’s way. She was small in stature but came across as intimidating nonetheless. Just as the piano music began a rousing chorus of “We Shall Not Be Moved,” the woman crossed her arms and commenced with what sounded like a rehearsed speech. “You’re the new director over at that orphanage?”
“I…I am.” Rena felt the eyes of several parishioners on her. Up front, the pianist was really going to town on the song.
“I have a few things I’d like to say to you.” The woman’s volume increased as the song continued. “But I guess most of it’ll have to wait till after service. That’s fine. It’ll give me plenty of time to gather my thoughts.”
“Gather your thoughts?” Rena asked.
“Yes.” The woman gestured for Rena to lean down to her level, which she did. “But I’ll give you a little how-do-you-do to get you started, so you know where I stand.” She paused and her gaze narrowed. “I’ve been against the idea of this orphanage from the time I first heard about it. This town was respectable before those hooligans came along. Just last week I started a campaign to rid the town of their nonsense. If you haven’t heard about it yet, you will. So don’t get any big ideas about staying long. If I get my way, the whole lot of you will be gone soon enough. I’ve already passed around a petition stating as much. I’ve got over a dozen signatures too. As soon as the mayor signs on, we will shut that place down. Mark my words.”
With a huff, the woman marched up the aisle toward the front of the church. Her sour countenance changed long enough for her to shake the reverend’s hand, but as she settled into the first pew, she turned and gave Rena a look that was clearly meant to send her packing. The music began to slow, but Rena’s heartbeat did not.
Jenny Jamison gave her a sympathetic look. “Pay her no attention,” she said in an exaggerated whisper. “Just sit down and go on with the service as if that never happened.”
Half relieved and half frozen with fear, Rena slipped into the pew next to Jenny. “I…I…” She shook her head, unable to speak.
“Molly Harris often renders folks speechless,” Jenny said with a smile. “But don’t let her get to you, promise? She’s poisonous at times, but there are plenty of other kind folks to counteract that sting.”
“Bu–but…” Rena still couldn’t speak.
Of course, with “Hallelujah, What a Savior” now being played in full force, she didn’t need to be speaking, anyway. The choir director rose and called the congregation to join him, and they all began to sing at the top of their lungs.
Gene took one look at the boys with their inside out clothes and laughed. “So, this is what I’ve been sent to fix? I’d rather leave you this way so folks can have a field day over it.”
“They’re a distraction, Sheriff,” Mrs. O’Shea whispered. “The other boys and girls can’t concentrate on the Bible story if they’re all laughing at this. You understand. So please take them and do with them as you will.”
She sighed, and Gene got the point. Still, he could hardly punish the children for being clever, now could he? No, he’d rather give them an E for effort. At least his own two weren’t involved this time. He gave William and Jacob a warning look, hoping they wouldn’t further aggravate the situation with any antics of their own.
“Come with me, boys.” He led them down the hallway to the water closet, where he sent them inside, two at a time. Wesley went first, his blond hair a bit of a distraction as he barreled past, rambling on about his grandfather. The kid needed a haircut. Oliver, ever the clown, followed suit, mimicking Wesley’s every word. Next came David, followed by Timmy, Nate, Joseph, and Evan, the four quietest in the bunch. The twins took their turn next, filling his ears with stories too, but he couldn’t make much sense of them, with their brogue so thick and all. After that came Henry, who looked as sour as always. Mochni followed Henry, chattering all the way.
“You gonna keep up that talking?” Gene asked the last boy.
“Yep.” He offered a toothless grin. “I’m Mochni. Talking Bird.”
“That would explain the inability to keep quiet,” Gene said. “Now get in there and turn your clothes right-side-out.”
The infamous trio of brothers—Mikey, Bubba, and Tree—went last. They smelled as if they’d not bathed in weeks. Several of the other boys were in similar conditions.
Finally convinced they’d all been taken care of, Gene led the way back to the classroom. Doing his best to hide a smile, he gestured for the boys to go inside.
“Now, don’t make me come back here,” he said. “This is Sunday. I’d like to rest, if you don’t mind. Even the Lord got one day off.”
The boys settled back into their chairs and Mrs. O’Shea carried on with her lesson. Convinced that one problem had been alleviated, Gene walked back toward the sanctuary. Miss Jewel’s interruption couldn’t have come at a worse time. He’d finally worked up the courage to sit next to Jenny Jamison during church. Oh well. Maybe he could still slip into that spot without too much notice from the other parishioners.
Making his way into the small sanctuary, Gene caught a glimpse of the beautiful Jenny Jamison. He took a couple of steps in her direction but discovered that someone else had taken the coveted spot at her side: Miss Jewel.
From a few rows up, his mother turned around and gave him a little wave. With a sigh, he decided to take his usual spot—beside Mama.
Chapter Ten
TIPS FOR DEALING WITH UNRULY YOUNG’UNS—Most folk ’round these parts know me as a newspaperman, but I see myself more as one who exposes problems and offers solutions. I shine a journalistic light on situations and invite my readers to join in the quest for making things better. When it comes to the children of Daisy, I can see both sides of the story. As a reformed rapscallion myself, I see those youngsters through hopeful eyes. Perhaps they will one day transform their world, as I seek to do with the pieces I write. One can hope, anyway. In the meantime, I plan to do what I can to turn the hearts of the grown-ups toward the children. It’s the least I can do.
—Jonathan Brewer, Journalist for the Atoka County Register
Rena managed to make it through the first fifteen minutes of the reverend’s sermon on patience when a tap on her shoulder caught her attention. She turned to see Lilly standing beside her.
&nb
sp; “Mrs. O’Shea says you need to come and get the boys.” The child spoke in an exaggerated whisper. “She can’t take it anymore.”
Rena closed her Bible and brushed the wrinkles out of her skirt before standing. A quick glance up the aisle clued her in to the fact that the elderly woman who’d confronted her had turned and was glaring at Lilly.
“Want me to come and help?” Jenny whispered.
Rena nodded and mouthed the word “Please.”
Together they slipped out of the pew and tiptoed down the aisle. Minutes later, Rena found herself getting an earful from a very unhappy Mrs. O’Shea. Rena sighed then lined up the boys—all fourteen of them—in the hallway for a little chat. She paced in front of them and they stared at her as if they were facing a firing squad. Well, maybe they were. With her temper rising, it was all she could do not to come out swinging.
Deep breath, Rena. Give them a chance to explain their poor behavior before trying to correct it.
“Is it true?” she asked Henry. “Did you really shoot spit wads at the teacher?”
“She’s boring,” he said. “Had to do something to stay awake.”
“I see.” Rena turned to Wesley. “And you glued her papers to the desk?”
He smirked. “Pretty clever, huh?”
“Pretty clever, huh?” Oliver mocked.
Rena took him by the shoulders. “Oliver, Mrs. O’Shea tells me that you brought a spider into the classroom. Where is it now?”
“Where is it now?” he echoed.
Rena resisted the urge to turn the youngster over her knee and give him a spanking. Instead, she dove into a lengthy speech about their behavior, honing in on Scriptures that she hoped would prove helpful.
Off in the distance, the piano playing began once more, and the congregation began to sing “It Is Well with My Soul.” Ironic, since she’d never felt more ill at ease.
