Blessings (15 page)

“Sounds to me like you’re overly busy.” Troy’s stern voice carried over the twins’ cheerful jabber. “What with making fancy church windows, too.”

Beth forced herself to meet the man’s gaze. She didn’t really care if she offended Troy, but she wanted to avoid conflict for her mother’s sake, so she tempered her voice when she replied. “I am busy, but if I want to have a successful business, it means meeting demands. I don’t begrudge the time it takes.”

Sean inserted, “She’s incredibly talented, and people are recognizing it more and more. It’s been a joy to see how God is using her abilities.”

Troy harrumphed.

“I think she also serves a purpose in the community,” Sean continued.

Beth stared at him. Not one to seek confrontation, Sean almost seemed to be goading Troy.

“How so?” Troy barked the question.

Sean shrugged. “She employs four people from Sommerfeld now. As the studio grows, she’ll be able to offer employment to more young people. I would think that would be preferable to having them drive out of town to find work.”

Troy lifted his water glass and took a sip. He thumped the glass onto the table. “Maybe, but how long can she keep it going?”

Sean opened his mouth to reply, but Beth put her hand on his knee under the table. “The studio is my life’s calling. I have no plans to close it or do anything else. Unless, of course, God opens a different door to me.”

“Like motherhood?”

Beth heard Trina’s sharp intake of breath at her father’s brusque question. Suddenly Beth felt as though she was being used as a bad example to Trina, and heat filled her face. “I don’t see how one affects the other.”

Mom stood, lifting the almost-empty roast platter, and cleared her throat. “I’ll get these serving bowls out of the way, and we can have dessert. I made cherry pie. Who would like ice cream with it?”

Troy acted as though Mom hadn’t spoken. “If you have a child, you’ll still work every day at the studio, just as you’ve been doing?”

“Of course I will.” Beth raised her shoulders in a shrug. “My mother worked all during my growing-up years. I learned to be independent and responsible as a result. That’s not to say every mother should take a job outside of the home, but I don’t see anything wrong with it.” She gestured toward Deborah. “Even Mrs. Muller has the café, and she has children. It’s worked out all right for you, hasn’t it?”

Deborah flapped her jaw, surprising Beth with her lack of response. When had she ever seen Deborah Muller speechless?

“But my wife stayed at home with her children until they were grown,” Troy argued. “She now has the café so our Trina would have a safe place to work, and she also hires other Sommerfeld young people. Her café serves a purpose in the community.”

“As does my studio,” Beth said. “And as would. . .” Her gaze drifted sideways briefly to Trina, who sat staring at Beth with wide, disbelieving eyes. She faced Troy Muller again. “As would having a certified veterinarian right here in town.”

F
IFTEEN

T
rina gasped at Beth’s boldness. Dad’s face blazed red. Mama looked as though she’d swallowed something bitter. Tony stared at his empty plate, his lips twitching. Uncle Henry and Aunt Marie gawked at each other across the table as if uncertain what to do. Only the twins seemed oblivious to the tension in the room, pushing against their highchair trays and complaining to be released. Uncle Henry lifted them in turn from their chairs, and they scampered around the corner, giggling. An apprehensive silence fell in their wake.

Oh, Beth, please don’t say anything else
, Trina’s thoughts begged, but a glance at her friend confirmed her worst fears—Beth had only gotten started.

Aunt Marie also must have suspected Beth had more to say, because she leaned forward and spoke loudly. “So are we ready for that pie now?”

Everyone around the table jumped and stared at Aunt Marie. Beth stood up, and all heads swiveled to look at her. Had the moment been less stressful, Trina might have laughed—everyone moved as if their heads were attached to a single string, being pulled here and then there in unison.

“Thank you, Mom, but I think I’ll pass on the dessert. Sean and I will go. But before I do, I have to say something to Mr. and Mrs. Muller.”

Trina held her breath, her fists balled so tightly her fingernails dug into the tender flesh of her palms. Beth’s hand clamped over her shoulder, and Trina looked up. Tears glittered in her friend’s eyes.

“Trina is special. I’ve known that from the first time I met her. She had a joy that was contagious—she lit a room. I know you all saw it, too.” She met Trina’s gaze for a moment, her lips turned down sadly. “And I know you also see that now. . .the joy is gone.” Beth’s sigh brought a sting of tears to Trina’s eyes. “I miss it. I miss the real Trina—the bouncy, cheerful girl she used to be.”

Trina dared a quick glance across the table. Dad’s jaw muscles twitched, and Mama’s chin quivered. Were those tears in Mama’s eyes?

“You’ve taken it out of her with your inability to see beyond your narrow views. We were talking earlier about service to the community. A veterinarian in Sommerfeld would be a tremendous service. Half of your residents depend on livestock for their livelihoods. Think what good it would do them to have someone close at hand to take care of their animals as needed.”

Beth’s voice, although low in tone, trembled with fervor. “That in itself should be reason enough to give Trina a chance to become a veterinarian. But there’s a deeper reason. She believes God has placed that calling on her heart. Who are we to say He didn’t?”

“A woman’s calling is to be a wife and a mother.” Dad spoke in a firm, flat tone.

“
And
,” Beth said, “sometimes something else, too. Like an artist. Or a terrific cook, like Mrs. Muller. Or. . .” Once more she looked tenderly into Trina’s face. “A caregiver for God’s lowly creatures.” Turning to face Dad, Beth said, “Being a wife and mother is a very important calling, Mr. Muller, but it doesn’t have to be a woman’s
only
calling.”

Beth took hold of Trina’s chin and aimed her face toward Dad. “Look at your daughter. It breaks my heart to see her in so much pain, and she’s just my friend. She’s your child. How can you look at her and not respond to her heartache?”

Trina pulled loose and ducked her head. She didn’t want to look at Dad right now, to see anger instead of compassion, condemnation instead of understanding. Beth’s fingers on her shoulder tightened for a moment and then slipped away, leaving Trina feeling cold and alone.

“Mr. Muller, I know you think I’m impudent.” Beth released a light, humorless chuckle. “Maybe I am. But what I’ve said has been out of love for Trina.”

Dad came out of his seat, pointing a finger at Beth. “Trina was just fine before you came along and opened your studio and put crazy ideas in her head. Well, she won’t be spending time with you anymore, so your influence will fade away.
Then
our Trina will come back. She will honor her father and mother just as the Bible commands her to, and she will be happy in the decision.”

Dad grabbed Mama’s arm and pulled her up. He shot a look from Uncle Henry to Aunt Marie. “I thank you for the good dinner, but we need to go home. Come on, Tony, Trina. Let’s go.”

“Thanks for dinner, Mom. Everything was good.” Graham pushed away from the table.

His brother, Chuck, shoved his last bite of cake into his mouth and spoke around it. “Want to play some checkers?”

Normally Graham would jump at the chance to trample Chuck in a checker match, but today his heart wasn’t in games. He felt burdened from the thoughts that had attacked during worship service, and he needed time to be alone and process all of the emotions warring for release.

“Sorry, Chuck. I’m going to head on home.”

Mom looked up, disappointment on her face. “You aren’t staying to visit?”

Graham fiddled with the buttons on his shirt. “Not today.”

“And you’re going to
your
house?”

Mom’s sharp tone caught Graham’s full attention. “Yes. Why?”

Mom sighed, her shoulders slumping. “I hoped you might be going to visit Trina. She’s looked so forlorn the last couple of weeks. Makes me feel sad for her.” Mom tipped her head, one black ribbon slipping along her cheek. “You’re still courting, aren’t you?”

Graham clutched the back of his chair, his head low. He knew how much his family liked Trina—Mom especially—and he didn’t want to upset her by saying he was no longer courting Trina. Yet saying yes might give her false hope that things were okay between them. He wasn’t sure what would happen as far as Trina was concerned, despite how his heart still ached with loving her.

“Graham?”

He lifted his head and met his mother’s concerned gaze. He forced a smile. “Don’t worry, Mom. Things’ll work out for the best.”

An ambiguous answer, but it seemed to satisfy his mother. She nodded and began clearing dishes. “Well, you run on, then, and get some rest.” A scowl marred her brow. “You look haggard, son.”

Graham waved good-bye and headed outside. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he made his way slowly toward his own little house. His empty little house. His mother’s parting comment followed him. He looked haggard? Well, he supposed it was possible. Worry and sadness could do that to a person.

He let the screen door slam behind him; then he crossed to the sofa and threw himself onto the center cushion. Head back, eyes closed, his mind drifted over the morning’s sermon and all the strange feelings that had coursed through him when the Bible passage was read.

Something pressed at the fringes of his mind, trying to clarify itself. He squeezed his eyes tight, pinching his lips.
What is it, Lord?
Unable to grasp the elusive message, he got up and retrieved his Bible. Flopping it open to Proverbs, he located the text and read it himself. Slowly. Finger underlining each word. Face pursed in fierce concentration. Heart begging for understanding.

When he reached the final verse, a jolt as powerful as a lightning bolt straightened him in the seat. He lurched backward and then forward as he bent over the Bible and read the verse again.

“ ‘Give her of the fruit of her hands; and let her own works praise her in the gates.’ ” He closed the Bible and aimed his gaze unseeingly across the room. His mind raced to comprehend his strange reaction to the words. Like layers being peeled away to reveal a hidden treasure, understanding dawned bit by bit until a clear picture emerged.

Graham leaped from the sofa and charged to the door. He hoped Trina was home. He needed to talk to her.

A light tap roused Trina from an uneasy sleep. She rolled over on the bed, her cap coming loose. Still reclining on the mattress, she said, “Yes?”

The door squeaked open a few inches. Mama peered in. “Trina, Graham is here and would like to see you.” A frown creased her face. “But before you come out, straighten your hair and cap.”

Graham.
Trina sighed. She wasn’t up to Graham’s disapproval after the awful lunch scene at Uncle Henry’s. Beth meant well, but she’d gotten Dad so upset he wouldn’t even speak on the way home. Trina couldn’t face another angry man.

Her heart heavy, she shook her head. “I’d rather not visit today, Mama. Would you tell him, please?”

Mama’s lips pursed so tightly they nearly disappeared. But then her face relaxed, her expression showing sympathy. “All right, daughter. I’ll tell him.”

Trina lay, her heart booming as she held her breath, and listened to the mumble of voices. Graham’s raised slightly, the words indiscernible but the tone insistent. Mama’s firm reply came, then a brief rebuttal from Graham, Mama’s voice again, and finally Graham’s resigned farewell. The click of the screen door signaled his departure.

Her breath whooshed out in relief. She rolled to her side, closing her eyes once more, but another tap at the door intruded. Without moving, she called, “What is it?”

“Trina?”

Tony’s whisper. Trina peeked over her shoulder. “What?”

“Can I come in?”

Trina released a loud huff. “All right.” Her tone wasn’t welcoming, but Tony tiptoed in anyway. When he sat on the edge of the bed, she snapped, “What do you want?”

“I think you should’ve talked to Graham.” Tony’s youthful face puckered in concern. “He looked really disappointed when Mom sent him away.”

Trina tried to conjure sympathy, but none would come. Graham had been sending her away, figuratively, for weeks. Why should she care about his disappointment? It certainly couldn’t equal hers. She shrugged.

Tony shook his head, staring at her in confusion. “You and Graham’ve been seeing each other for a long time. I thought you liked each other. I thought when you really like somebody you try to work things out.”

“Tony, how is this your business?” Trina’s words came out in a harsh hiss.

Tony’s face blotched red. He picked at a hangnail, his eyes downcast. “Dunno. Just. . .makes me feel bad, having everybody upset with everybody else.”

Trina shifted her gaze to the ceiling. “Everybody’s not upset with
everybody
. Everybody’s just upset with
me
. So don’t let it bother you.”

“But it does bother me!” Tony nudged Trina on the leg, capturing her attention. “I–I’ve been thinking. . .about what Beth said at lunch today.”

Trina groaned. “Tony, let’s not talk about lunch, please?” An image of her father’s furious face flashed through her memory. She threw her arm across her eyes to block the sight, but it replayed behind her closed lids.

Tony yanked her arm down. “I have to. She’s right. And—and I know I bug you a lot, but I miss my happy sister.”

Trina opened her eyes and looked at Tony. Tears pricked her eyes at the sorrow reflected in his dark eyes. She swallowed hard.

“Are you going to be unhappy forever if you don’t get to be a veterinarian?”

The whispered question hung in the air for several long seconds. Tony waited, silent, his unblinking gaze pinned to her face. Finally, Trina heaved a sigh. Running her fingers up and down the length of her dress’s modesty cape, she shook her head. “I wish I knew. It sure feels like it right now. But I hope not.”