A Home at Trail's End (14 page)

“Yes,” Elizabeth persisted. “But do you enjoy it?”

He frowned now. “I do not believe God intends for me to enjoy myself as I serve him. Teaching about God's judgment is a sobering responsibility. Not to be taken lightly. Not to be done for pleasure. Exposing sin and corruption, rescuing sinners from their wicked ways…it is not meant to be enjoyable.”

“My father's understanding of God is different from yours. When my father preaches, he speaks of God's love and mercy. He talks about how God showed us his forgiveness by sending his beloved Son to atone for our sins,” Elizabeth told him. “Even during the hardships of the Oregon Trail, whenever my father finished a sermon, we all felt encouraged and strengthened—ready to face another difficult day.” She sighed. “How I miss that.”

The room grew uncomfortably quiet again. And now Elizabeth felt certain that she had said too much. Her mother's eyes were large, and poor Mrs. Holmes was staring down at her lap. Elizabeth had obviously stepped over some invisible line. But how could she hold her tongue when everything about this “minister of God” seemed foreign to her? Even with the reverend glaring at her, she was not ready to back down.

She took a deep breath and then continued. “The reason I asked if you enjoy your work is that you strike me as a very unhappy man, Reverend Holmes. And with all due respect, that concerns me. I think if someone is called by God to shepherd a flock, he should do it with gladness and joy. However, you seem to be completely without gladness or joy. You seem to be a very sad man.”

“Perhaps I appear sad because I take life and death—heaven and hell—seriously.” His eyes narrowed and his mouth was grim. “I take my responsibilities in caring for this flock very seriously.”

“Is that because you believe that it's all up to you and you alone?” she asked. “Do you believe that your congregation's spiritual fate is in your hands?”

“God has entrusted me with these people.”

“I respect that. But it seems to me that you are not trusting God, Reverend. Perhaps if you trusted God more, if you believed more wholly in his love, if you understood the magnitude of his grace, if you felt the power of his mercy, you would be a much happier person. Perhaps you would even enjoy your work—that is, your calling. And if you were happier, I am sure your sermons would be more encouraging and uplifting. And your congregation would look forward to going to church.” She took in a quick breath. “But as it is, your congregation is shrinking. And I'm afraid it will continue to shrink.”

The only sound was the ticking of the clock. Elizabeth could tell by the sparkle in Clara's eyes that she was secretly pleased with her daughter's audacity. And although Mrs. Holmes looked somewhat shocked with her hand over her lips, Elizabeth thought she could see a trace of a smile there too.

“For a young woman, you certainly have no problem expressing your opinions,” he told her in a condescending way. “Apparently you've not learned to respect your elders during your youth. But perhaps when you grow older, you will grow wiser too.”

“I am older,” Clara said. “And I agree with every word my daughter just said.”

“As do I,” Mrs. Holmes said with wide eyes.

“Georgia!” He glowered at his wife.

“I'm sorry, Roland, but it's the truth. And it's what I've been trying to tell you, but you refuse to listen. For the past couple of years, your sermons have gotten louder and meaner. You frighten the children. You offend the men—so much so that many of them are refusing to come to church. The women come only out of habit, and then they cannot seem to get away quickly enough. If you continue like this, I suspect they will give up eventually.” She had tears in her eyes now. “I don't like to go to church,” she confessed to Clara and Elizabeth. “I always have a stomachache on Sundays.”

Clearly enraged, Reverend Holmes stood up with balled fists. His face was red and blotchy now, and the whites of his eyes were showing. But without uttering a word, he marched across the room, snatched up his hat and coat, and exited the tiny house, slamming the door loudly behind him. And now poor Mrs. Holmes burst into sobs.

“Oh, you poor dear,” Clara said as she put an arm around her shoulders.

“I am so sorry,” Elizabeth said as she patted the woman's back. “I never should have said all that.”

“No, no,” Mrs. Holmes assured her in a shaky voice. “It needed to be said.” She blew her nose on her handkerchief. “Someone needed to come forward and say it.”

“I…I don't know.” Elizabeth's hands were trembling, and she felt close to tears herself. She could hardly believe what she'd just said to the reverend—where had that come from? “I never meant to say that much to him,” she confessed. “All I wanted was a peaceful wedding.”

“I've been hoping and praying one of the men would come forward and tell Roland he'd gone too far,” Mrs. Holmes told them. “But they are so busy with farming and building and whatnot.” She smiled sadly at Elizabeth. “I'm much obliged to you for speaking your mind.”

“What will Reverend Holmes do?” Clara looked at the door with concern.

“He'll storm around in the forest, walking for miles I s'pect. He'll rant and rave at God, and in time he will come home and be very quiet.” She sighed as if the quiet might be appreciated. “After that…there's no telling what he'll do. He might even vent his wrath from the pulpit on Sunday.”

Elizabeth cringed. Because of her the congregation was going to suffer?

“Has he always preached such fiery sermons?” Clara asked her.

“Oh, no. Not at all. Roland used to preach some beautiful sermons. Everyone in the church back in Virginia loved him. But about six or seven years ago, his brother challenged him, saying Roland should become more theological. At first the two of them argued about it. But then his brother got him to read some theology books.” She shook her head. “After Roland read those books, he began to see life differently, and he started preaching differently.”

“That was back in Virginia?”

“Yes. But the congregation didn't appreciate the change. After a year or so, they decided it was time for Roland to move on.” She sadly shook her head. “He was very hurt at first. But then he decided it was God's way of sending us to the Western frontier. We knew the Levine family had settled in these parts, and Roland had been good friends with Wesley Levine when they were growing up.”

“Had Mr. Levine passed on yet?” Clara asked.

“Yes, but we hadn't heard about it,” she said. “So we sold everything we owned and booked passage to Oregon.” She waved her hand. “And here we are.”

Clara reached over and grasped Mrs. Holmes' hand. “I'm sure this hasn't been easy for you.”

“No…I suppose it's been my cross to bear. But I keep praying that Roland will return to his old way of preaching. I never give up hope.”

“Well, I hope we haven't made matters worse for you,” Clara said.

“No, don't you worry about me. Roland's bark is much worse than his bite. He truly loves me. And despite his sermons, he loves his congregation too.”

“Does the reverend have any close friends? Men he can talk to?”

“I had hoped he and Wesley would rekindle their friendship. We've been here three and a half years, and so far Roland has yet to make a good friend.”

“That's probably because the men are so busy trying to scratch out a living, just as you said.”

She nodded. “That and they're probably afraid of him.”

“Well, there's one man who won't be scared of him.” Clara chuckled. “I'm going to ask Asa to come over and visit the reverend. Now that our house is mostly finished, my good husband can afford to make a trip to town now and then.”

“That's a wonderful idea,” Elizabeth agreed. “No one could have a better friend than Father. The reverend would benefit greatly from getting better acquainted with him.”

Elizabeth and Clara visited a bit longer, staying long enough to see Mrs. Holmes return to her merry little self. But as they were leaving, she stopped Elizabeth with a worried brow. “Oh, dear. Does this mean you won't be having your wedding in the church now?”

Elizabeth tied her bonnet strings. “Why don't we just wait and see what happens with Reverend Holmes. And in the meantime, I'll be praying for him.”

“Yes, so will I,” Clara told her. “Maybe after Asa talks to him, we'll have a better idea of what to do regarding the wedding.”

As they walked back toward home, they noticed a new set of dark clouds rolling in from the direction of the ocean and hastened their pace in order to make it back before the sky broke open. As Elizabeth watched the rain pelting down, she wondered if the reverend would still be stomping around in the woods, ranting and raving. And if so, maybe it was for the best. Perhaps a nice chilly autumn shower would cool him off a bit. Maybe God would use it to wash some of the strange notions out of his stubborn head. Then, as promised, Elizabeth said a silent prayer for the reverend.

Chapter Eleven

A
fter the children went to bed, Elizabeth and Malinda remained seated by the fireside, sewing. Malinda was working on her wedding dress. She'd purchased the beautiful silk brocade from the mercantile. Elizabeth had held her tongue when she saw that it was a silvery shade of green. She had no intention of telling Malinda about the wedding dress poem, and she had warned Ruth to keep quiet on the topic. The bride might be wearing green, but Elizabeth knew she would not be “ashamed to be seen.”

“Mother and I had an interesting visit with Reverend and Mrs. Holmes today,” Elizabeth said quietly.

“Oh, yes, I nearly forgot about that. How did it go?”

Elizabeth slid the needle into the blue gingham shirt that had once belonged to James. She was altering it to fit JT, shortening the sleeve by placing a tuck just underneath the cuff and then putting in similar tucks along the shoulder seams. At the rate JT was growing, she might be letting out the tucks by spring. As she sewed, she told Malinda about their rather interesting afternoon.

“You truly said that to Reverend Holmes?” Malinda looked flabbergasted.

“That and more, I'm afraid.” Elizabeth shook her head. “I was just so upset at him. It was as if someone else was talking—not me.”

“Well, I would have liked to have seen that.” Malinda put the end of thread to her lips.

“I thought my mother was going to be mortified. But when it was all said and done, she told me she was proud of me. Just the same, I wish I hadn't said quite so much. I truly don't like conflict of any kind. But there seemed to be no getting around it.”

“When the Levines told us we were getting a minister back in 1852, we were all so excited. That summer, all the settlers worked together to build the church. Of course, we knew it would also suffice as a school, and that alone was very welcome. But everyone really sacrificed to get that building up. The Levines had spoken so highly of Reverend Holmes that we felt extremely fortunate. And I suppose we all had rather high expectations.”

“I see.” Elizabeth tied off her thread.

“We knew they were to arrive in September of 1853,” she continued. “And although we were all busy with our own farms and homes, we decided to go the extra mile and build a parsonage. We knew it was rather small, but there wasn't much time. Besides, it was better than nothing, and we hoped to add onto it the following year.”

“But that never happened?”

“By the summer of 1854, I think we were all feeling a bit disappointed in the reverend. No mention was made of enlarging the parsonage. John told me that some of the men were hoping that Reverend and Mrs. Holmes would leave if we didn't improve their home.”

“It is extremely small.”

“That was about the time we were having the Indian troubles,” Malinda continued. “The threat of Indian attacks was an understandable distraction from our clergyman concerns. And I suppose, in light of our fearful circumstances, we were not so opposed to the reverend's style of preaching. Another year passed…and the reverend stayed on. And then we were struck by illness last year…and James died…” She sighed. “I honestly can't remember all of the details of the past couple of years, but Reverend Holmes did not give up. Church attendance fell, and I'm sure the offerings were meager. One would think that alone would have driven them back east. But alas, they are still here. I suppose we all just resolved ourselves to the idea that we would be saddled with Reverend Holmes forever.”

“Is he the reason you wanted to have your wedding in the barn?”

Malinda shrugged. “He's still officiating our ceremony. But hopefully we'll all cheer up after he leaves.” She gave Elizabeth a sympathetic look. “Are you sure you want to go through with your church wedding now?”

Elizabeth thought about it. “I don't see any way around it. We'll just have to make the best of it.”

“If you waited until spring, you could have a very nice wedding in my barn. I would help you with all the details, Elizabeth.”