While Mary still lived in his heart, he had to admit to feeling something new when he was with Ruth. And from the way her cheeks turned rosy if his gaze lingered on her face, he thought she might be feeling something new too. It was surprising she had been a widow so many years. A lovely Christian woman. Intelligent. Well read. And a good cook. What more could a man want?
She’d surely had chances and had instead chosen the single life. Hadn’t he thought to choose the same after Mary died? And now here he was wondering if the Lord was giving him another chance at love.
Whether that was true or not, his confusion over his own walk with God had eased over the last days. He felt more confident in his calling and that his prayers weren’t simply empty words bouncing back at him. The prayers he faithfully lifted up for Louis Sanderson might be the reason. And the testimony of the man’s life.
The effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man availeth much. Not that Will was claiming that title for himself. He wanted to be a righteous man, but he knew his sins of doubt and struggling faith since Mary died. But Louis, though a slave, appeared to be that righteous man. A man who prayed believing.
Will had sought out the man after Adria Starr revealed she’d told Louis about their efforts to raise money to free him.
“Miss Adria has been a ray of sunshine in my life ever since the cholera spread dark o’er our town, but I never expected her to do nothin’ like this.” To speak to Will, Louis had stepped out of the buggy house where he was polishing and cleaning things for the Sanderson sale. A sale that included him. The black man kept his head down as slaves were conditioned to do, but then he raised his eyes toward the sky as though looking for those rays of sunshine. “And Miss Ruth too. I’ve been blessed to be able to help them out from time to time.”
“I hear you helped many people out during the cholera epidemic.”
“Those I could. Those the good Lord put in my path.” He brought his eyes away from the sky and looked at the ground again.
“How did you know the cholera wasn’t going to affect you?”
“Wasn’t no way to know that till it didn’t. But I prayed and the Lord showed me what needed doin’ and give me the strength to do it.”
“You prayed believing.”
“Ain’t no other way to pray, is there, Reverend?” Louis looked up at Will then, as though searching his face for an answer he already knew.
“No, but sometimes prayers aren’t answered.”
“I ain’t meanin’ to disagree with you, sir, but I’m thinkin’ different on that. To my way of thinkin’, prayers is always answered but sometimes not the way we be thinkin’ they should be. Like now.” His gaze went toward the sky again. “Miss Adria, she’s prayin’. I’m prayin’. You probably prayin’ too that this idea she got is gonna work the way she wants, and if you are, I thank you for that. But it’s the Lord what has to make it work. If’n it be his will. If’n it ain’t, then maybe he don’t want ol’ Louis to be free. Maybe he’s got other plans for me, and if that be true, then who am I to say the Lord don’t have the best plan?”
Who am I to say the Lord don’t have the best plan? The black man’s words echoed in Will’s head as he turned down the street toward his house. If only he had the same powerful faith. To pray not just believing, but believing that whatever happened, whatever answers came, the Lord would somehow turn it to good.
And we know that all things work together for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to his purpose.
According to his purpose. But even with that verse stored in his heart, Will still couldn’t see what good had come of Mary’s death. It wasn’t God’s purpose. Will couldn’t believe it was. The fever had just come upon her and stolen her away from this world the same as the cholera had taken so many away all across the country in 1833.
He shook his head a little. That wasn’t what the verse said. It was to them called according to his purpose. Will was the one called to the Lord’s purpose. It wasn’t good that Mary died, but since it did happen, then the Lord could take that, as he could take whatever happened in a man’s life, and find a way to make something good come from it. Because Mary died, Will had entered a valley of sorrow and doubt.
Not doubt in the existence of God, but whether his own faith was strong enough to be the under-shepherd he thought he’d been called to be. And yet somewhere even in the darkest moments of doubt, the Lord was always there. Not condemning but knowing and sharing Will’s sorrow. Will was broken, but the Lord lovingly put the pieces back together. While Will had come to Springfield to escape his unhappy memories, that didn’t mean the Lord couldn’t make good come of that too. Perhaps the good was in helping this man, Louis.
He would put away Ruth’s raisin bread, more good to consider, and then pay a call on the Sanderson family. Perhaps they could be convinced to lower the price of Louis’s freedom. But first he would delve into the Scripture and ask the Lord’s blessing on his purpose.
He had just settled down with his Bible when someone knocked on the door. Perhaps Ruth had followed him home for some reason, but no, this knock was no gentle rap but a sturdy pounding to be sure to get his attention. Someone must have a pressing need.
When he pulled open the door, Will wasn’t sure he was seeing right. His brother-in-law stood there with Willeena clutching his neck and hiding her face in his shoulder.
“Andrew.” Fear that the man brought bad news gripped Will. “Is Hazel all right?”
“She ain’t dead, if that’s what you mean.”
“Praise God.” A breath of relief swept through Will. He stepped back from the door to let Andrew come in. He wanted to reach out and touch the wisps of taffy-colored hair curling down on Willeena’s neck, but he stayed his hand. She’d grown in the time since he’d seen her.
“Hello, Willeena,” he said softly.
Without raising her head off Andrew’s shoulder, she peeked around at him.
“The girl’s been asleep. She’s a mite timid when she first wakes up. Usually won’t have nothing to do with anybody but Hazel. That’s the trouble.” Andrew patted the child’s back.
“What trouble? Is something wrong with Hazel?”
“She’s not well. She’s in the family way again and it’s dragging her down. She don’t have the energy to run after the little ones. My ma took our little Ginny for a spell, but she’s getting on up in the years. Wasn’t no way she could handle the both of them. Willie too. You understand that, don’t you?” Andrew looked worried Will might not understand.
“I’m sorry to hear Hazel is feeling poorly.”
“Well, Hazel didn’t want me bringing her to you, but I didn’t see no way around it. She’s yours to do with as you think best.”
“I can’t take care of a little girl.” Will didn’t want to say that, but it was best to face facts.
“Hazel said you’d say that. But it ain’t all that hard. They just need watching and feeding. She don’t wear nappies no more. And what with you having a church, you’re bound to know some woman willing to help you with the watching whilst you’re doing your preacher duties.”
Will must have still looked doubtful because Andrew’s face hardened as he went on. “She’s yours to take care of or to find another place for. Hazel done her best for you, but she can’t do no more. About broke her heart to admit it, but till she gets back on her feet, there ain’t nothing else for it but to bring her back to you. Could be down the road, Hazel will get to feeling better once the baby gets here, and if you still feel like it’s too much for you, you can come talk to her then. But this is how it is now. No changing it.”
“I see.” Will hesitated to reach for Willeena. The child’s body had stiffened while Andrew talked. She had heard and understood too much. He never should have said he couldn’t take care of her, even if he did feel that way. He reached for her now. “Come here, Willie.”
She burrowed her face deeper into Andrew’s shoulder and tightened her arms around his n
eck. “I want Mama Hazie.” Her voice was muffled but the words were plain.
Andrew shut his eyes. This was obviously not easy for him. He took a deep breath, opened his eyes, and very gently lifted the child a little away from him so he could look in her face. “Now, Willie, we talked about this with Mama Hazie and then on the ride over here. You’re gonna have to stay with your daddy for a while. He’s gonna take good care of you just like me and Mama Hazie have been doing.”
“But I won’t get to play with Ginny.” Tears were in the little girl’s voice.
“Not for a while. But your daddy, he has a whole church full of people. I’m guessing there will be some little girls for you to play with come Sunday.” Andrew’s eyes were too full. “You know Mama Hazie and me love you, but your daddy loves you too. Just as much.”
“That’s right.” Will put in. There was nothing for it but to accept the child. Hazel wouldn’t have let Andrew bring Willie to him unless it was necessary. He needed to think about her and not himself. “We’ll find some new friends for you and you can help me take care of my horse.”
She looked around at Will then. “Can I have a puppy?”
“I don’t know. We’ll have to think about that.” Will couldn’t keep from laughing. That was exactly how her mother had been, always ready to negotiate. If there wasn’t money for a new hat, was there money for a new ribbon? But this time when he looked at Willie and saw Mary, it didn’t stab his heart the way it had before. He was glad to be reminded of her through their child. Perhaps Hazel had been right. He had just needed more time and more acceptance of what couldn’t be changed.
Andrew smiled too. “Sometimes it’s hard to remember this one is only a little over two the way she talks. Way better than our Ginny, who is already three. Hazel says it’s not all that common how Willie never did much baby talking at all. Just started putting sentences together in words a man could understand, but I guess you knew that. It hasn’t been all that long since you last saw her.”
He handed her over to Will and this time she didn’t try to cling to Andrew. Instead she kept her eyes on Will’s face as though trying to figure him out. She was a sweet, warm weight in his arms. A strand of hair slid down over her forehead and Will blew it back. That made her giggle. He had forgotten her giggle, or maybe he had never noted it when he made his quick stops at Hazel’s to see the child. Those visits had been too infrequent and he hadn’t tried to be a daddy. Only a dutiful father or, even more truthfully, a dutiful brother, thankful his sister was caring for the child he couldn’t. Couldn’t or wouldn’t. Whichever, that was about to change.
Again Andrew’s eyes looked too watery as he touched the little girl’s head. He abruptly dropped his hand back to his side. “I’ll get her clothes. She should have plenty, till she grows out of them. That won’t take long. Kids this age grow fast. Hazel told me to tell you that, so you’d know to find somebody to make her more in a few months. I expect that won’t be hard in a town like this.” He turned to go back out the door to his buggy, then looked over his shoulder at Will. “But the easiest thing is for you to find a wife. A preacher, well, any man, needs a wife. I don’t know what I’d do without Hazel.”
“I’ll pray for her to regain her health and for the baby she’s carrying too.”
Andrew blinked and gave a quick nod. “I’ll be beholding to you for that.”
The child’s possessions were few. Several dresses. Socks and underwear. A sweater. A coat that might not be too small come wintertime. Shoes for church. Gowns for sleeping. A child-sized quilt Hazel had made for her and a rag doll with yarn hair and a patched knee.
“Hazel was aiming to make her a new doll. Could be she’ll still get that done, what with having to rest so much right now. Sewing will give her something to do. She can send it to you when she gets it made.”
“I’m sure Willie will like that.” Will said the words, but he had no idea what Willie would like or not like.
Andrew stooped down in front of Willie, who had stood in the middle of the sitting room and watched the transfer of her things from the buggy to the house. Now instead of Andrew’s neck, she clutched the doll. She had a lost look on her face that made Will’s heart hurt.
“You be good for your daddy, you hear?” Andrew’s voice was gruff with feeling.
The girl nodded. A tear slid down her cheek.
“Now don’t you be getting all teary-eyed. Mama Hazie and me, we’ll come see you when we can, and you and your daddy can come see us too.”
“Ginny too?” Willie said.
“Of course, Ginny too.” He leaned toward her and kissed her forehead. “That was for Mama Hazie.” He touched his cheek. “Now you give me a kiss right here that I can take home to her.”
She brushed her lips across his cheek and then stepped back. “Goodbye, Daddy A.”
Andrew stood up and looked at Will. “That’s what she calls me. Just seemed easier than teaching her Uncle Andrew. We weren’t thinking on having to give her up then. Figured she’d be with us a while. Maybe forever. But this is better. She needs to be with you and you need to make a home for her.”
Then with a handshake, he was gone out the door and climbing into his buggy to drive off down the road. Will stood at the doorway and watched till even his buggy’s dust trail disappeared.
Behind him, the child started talking to her doll. “Don’t cry, Maysie. I’ll take care of you.”
Lord, help me. The prayer slipped through his mind as he turned back to Willeena. What in the world was he going to do? He had no idea how to take care of a child. What was it Andrew had said? He just had to watch her and feed her. He doubted it would be that simple, but feeding her would be a start.
“Are you hungry?”
She looked at him with big green eyes so like Mary’s and nodded.
“What do you like to eat?” He didn’t know why he asked. It wasn’t as though he had that much to offer. Bread and cheese. Eggs and sausage. Beans. Apples. His larder was far from full.
“Mama Hazie’s biscuits.” Her lips trembled.
“I’m sorry, but I’m not good at making biscuits.” He pushed a smile out on his face and hoped his lips weren’t trembling to match hers.
“Mama Hazie’s sick.” She wasn’t crying, but somehow that simply made her words sadder. Her head drooped as she squeezed her doll tight against her chest.
“I know she is.” He stooped down beside her. “The two of us, you and me, we’ll pray she gets better so she can make you some more of those biscuits. But until then, I do have some raisin cinnamon bread.” Thanks to Ruth Harmon. Wonder what she would think of his little girl. She’d taken in a child once. Would she do it again? Or would she step back from Will?
He couldn’t worry about that now. One day at a time. That was how he needed to think. Maybe one hour at a time here in the beginning. He stood up and held his hand out to Willie.
She looked at him a long moment and then put her hand in his. It was enough. Somehow he would find a way to take care of her.
Twenty-five
You don’t really want to marry that hayseed, Carlton Damon, do you?” Logan Farrell fell into step beside Adria when she left the store on Tuesday afternoon.
“Good day to you too, Mr. Farrell.” She looked over at him without a smile. The man could at least say hello when he waylaid her on the street.
“No need wasting words is how I think about it, Miss Starr. Best to get right to the point.”
“I thought you had a job now.”
“Even wagon makers have a quitting time, but I can prove I’ve been working.” He took off his hat and brushed some sawdust out of the hair curling down over his forehead. “I’ve been sawing and sanding all day. I’d have gone back to my room and cleaned up a mite, but I didn’t want to miss walking the prettiest girl in Springfield home.”
“You do have a silver tongue, Mr. Farrell.” She couldn’t quite stop a smile from tickling her lips. “Except for not properly greeting a person and
asking rude questions that are none of your business.”
“But I want to make it my business.” He put his hand under her elbow and turned her toward the road. “Why don’t we take the long way to your house? Down the street, I met a man who says he has some money for you. For the slave you’re trying to buy.”
“I’m not buying a slave.” Adria shuddered at the thought. “I’m—we’re setting one free.” She slowed her steps. They were headed toward the tavern area. Not exactly the place a lady should stroll, with or without an escort.
“Either way it takes money, right?” Logan must have noticed her hesitation. “You aren’t afraid to go down this way, are you?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll protect you.”
“Are you going to protect my reputation too?” She stopped walking.
“Sorry. I probably already wrecked that for you when I started walking with you.” He stared down at her with a daring smile in his eyes. “But I understand if you don’t want to go get the money. A lady’s reputation is important. And you can probably raise enough for poor Louis in the highfalutin neighborhoods, but I have to tell you—” He shook his head a little. “It’s been my experience that poor folks are way more generous than those other folks. I guess when you don’t have much, you don’t mind getting down to even less by giving to somebody what needs it worse.”
“Are you speaking from experience?”
“I’ve been both places, that’s for sure. With plenty and with little of nothing.” He moved a couple of steps on down the street. “Generally preferred the taverns to the ballrooms.”
“Interesting.” She started walking with him. When had she ever worried about her reputation anyway? She left that up to Ruth. “I’ve never been to either. I must be stuck in the middle.”
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