Sarah's Promise (11 page)

“All right.”

My stomach tensed a little. Surely that meant I’d have to be open to the result of my prayer. God could send Frank to Kalamazoo, or to some island like he did Robert. But surely he wouldn’t. God would know that wasn’t right for us. He could give Frank peace about being close to home. He could open Frank’s eyes to the way other people saw him—as a strong and capable young man worthy of the same respect as anyone else.

There was no shame in making a home close to where we grew up. No shame at all, even if we were neighbors to family. Frank was a hard worker. How could anyone think he wouldn’t be standing on his own two feet?

We got off the phone, and I prayed right away for Frank to have peace in his heart. Maybe it was harder than I realized to be a young man thinking about providing for a family and making a decent home.

Dad fed the big dog as soon as we got back but still left it in the barn. He said it was looking better just to have regular food and seemed content to be in out of the wind. He’d asked the neighbors and several people in the service station if they had any idea who the dog might belong to, but nobody had any notion where it had come from.

I guessed we’d gotten ourselves another farm dog, whether he’d prove useful or not. Nobody really called him ours, but I supposed it would be official the day Dad let him have the run of the place. I’d gone and looked in on him a couple of times, and he did look better. We certainly wouldn’t have to worry about coons or any other critters if he stayed around. He had a face that would scare off anything.

Kirk and Bert came over that evening because they knew we’d planned to talk to Frank that day. “Did he say anything about the job offer?” Kirk wanted to know.

“He’s decided not to take it,” I told him but was quickly dismayed at the reaction I received.

Kirk nodded his head knowingly. “What’d I tell you?” he asked his little brother Bert. “Way too far away. No way he’d take that kind of chance. Not without Sam in the same town. If he does any more job-looking up there—you wait and see—it’ll be in Jacksonville and not Camp Point.”

Bert nodded too, and I was incensed at both of them. “What makes you say that? The building’s not right for what Frank needs in a store! And he wants to own it outright instead of renting like Mr. Pratt wanted. He didn’t decide against it because of the distance!”

The very thing that still troubled me about the whole matter was what these two apparently didn’t see. I wished Frank
had
turned it down because of the distance.

“Sure, there may be other reasons,” Kirk acknowledged with a strange smile. “But Frank knows it wouldn’t work to set himself off away from everybody, at least until he’s got you with him. No way he could’ve accepted a job like that yet.”

I could’ve screamed at him. How dare he hold such an attitude! I’d just gotten finished trying to assure Frank that nobody we knew could be thinking like that. And here were his own brothers. I’d been telling myself that such shortsighted opinions of Frank had died with his father. But Frank had known better.

“He could’ve taken that job if he’d wanted to,” I insisted. “And he’d have done well at it! He’s honest, with common sense and experience! What makes you think he wouldn’t do fine away from home?”

Bert put his hand on my shoulder. “Kirk don’t mean to upset you, Sarah. But you gotta admit he’s talkin’ realistic. We don’t mean nothing bad. But you know how Frank is. A good worker, but it wouldn’t take long for him to run into problems without somebody to help him with paperwork and such. And what if he gets carried away thinkin’ deep and don’t notice his customers? You know what I’m talkin’ about. We all love him, but every one of us has seen him at those times. Lizbeth says there’s no reason to think Frank can’t be a success, but that’s so long as he’s around folks that understand.”

I just stared. Lizbeth? She’d always been so wonderful toward Frank, far better than the brothers sometimes. If any of them, especially a sister, were to express doubts about Frank’s ability, I would’ve expected it to be Rorey, who scarcely ever had a good attitude about anyone anyway. But Lizbeth? Never. I was stunned. And almost as much by Bert. He respected Frank so much. Looked up to him. I’d thought.

I turned away from them. This was exactly what Frank had been talking about! His own family didn’t think he was able to make a go of things alone, and he was thinking he had to prove them wrong. No wonder he’d gone to find out about that job.

My eyes filled with tears. Life could be so simple without other people’s foolish ideas. If they just believed in him the way they should, maybe he’d be content to stay close to home where I wanted to be. They were driving him away, and they didn’t even see it!

“I think you’re blind,” I spat at both of them, squelching the tears before I turned around. “Frank was the one who held things together during the war. He kept up your farm and helped us too, even with his business on top of that! He’s helped my father at the service station when they were full with repairs. The neighbors call on him when they need a hand. Even the pastor, when he had to be gone, asked Frank to step in and speak for him that Sunday—”

“He was pert’ near a wreck then,” Kirk put in with a laugh. “Awful nervous.”

“Of course he was!” I snapped. “Wouldn’t you be? The important thing is, he did it! He did a fine job! Everybody said so. And you couldn’t have done it. Neither of you! You’ve got no right to talk like he can’t handle what he faces, no matter where he is.”

“We’re sorry,” Bert said quickly. “Never meant to upset you.”

Kirk didn’t say anything at all. I looked at Mom, who was across the room frying cabbage, and I wondered if this was exactly what she’d meant about letting Frank be his own man.

I prayed differently now. For God to touch Frank’s family to see him the way they should. And for Frank to have the confidence and strength to make the decisions he should despite their thoughts.

But when I was alone that night, I started wondering even about myself. I really liked to read to Frank. I liked to help him with paperwork and things. And I could remember coming upon him more than once when he’d seemed so consumed in faraway thinking that he didn’t notice my presence, even when I spoke. Could I be a little like Kirk and Bert, in hoping he’d stay close to home? I’d been practically frantic for him when he was on the road. Would I have been so worried if it was my brother or my dad making the same trip?

It was hard to think like that, hard to confront the doubts in my own head. It made me think again of the question Rorey’d asked in her letter:
“Can you imagine reading orders and everything else for him for the rest of your life? He’ll be dependent on you or your parents, Sarah. Is that what you want?”

I’d thought I wouldn’t mind a bit because of how much I loved him. I’d thought that doing things for Frank would make me feel all the more needed and we’d be a team. But was I selling him short too, even thinking in such a way? It wasn’t what he wanted, to be dependent on anybody at all. Even me.

Father, help. You have the answer, and I promised to trust you. No matter what, I will. But I promised to trust Frank too. And I do. I try. So is it being realistic to think of his limitations, like Bert says? Or is it just unfair?

12

Frank

In the four days since I’d gotten to Sam’s house, we’d made a lot of progress getting things moved. Mr. Pratt wasn’t happy with Sam or me, but there wasn’t anything to be done about it. Sam had to do what was best for his family, and I did too, even if I only had me and Sarah to think about for now. I knew neither of us would really be happy running Mr. Pratt’s store. We’d be better off picking the place that was really right for us from the start. I had some definite ideas, and I took to praying about it.

I need a bigger workshop, Lord
.
Even a bigger storefront if possible, and a back or side door big enough to load or unload all kinds of things. And a nice house right next door, that would be ideal. With plenty of yard, and even a garage.

It was Monday, and Sam was starting his new job tomorrow. We’d be spending the night for the first time in the new house. The kids were all excited, running every which way, especially up and down the stairs, which I wasn’t keen on because I hadn’t had time to fix them a rail yet. Thelma finally corralled the whole troop and got them settled down to read or color pictures while she finished supper.

Albert seemed more nervous than the other kids about being in the new place. I wondered how much he’d been able to figure out about what was happening. The move itself was surely clear enough, but not the reason for it. I wondered if he knew about the deaf school, or if he’d understand where Georgie and Rosemary’d be going when they started at their new school next week.

I let him sit on my lap while he drew Crayola pictures. He liked to draw people. Babies without legs. Boys and men with blue pants and really big ears. And all the girls with long curls like Rosemary’s. If a picture didn’t suit him, he’d scribble over it in black and start another one. I thought he was mighty good for his age and a lot tougher critic of his own work than he oughta be.

Dorothy and Pearl were coloring too, but Georgie was whittling off to himself and Rosemary had settled down with a little book her teacher had given her before Christmas. I watched her for a while the way I used to watch Bert or Emmie read at home. She laid her bookmark across the page and lowered it a little every time she got to the end of a line. Mrs. Wortham had suggested that to me once, to help me keep from losing my place on the page or getting overwhelmed by such a jumble of words. It hadn’t helped much because my eyes didn’t seem to know what to do with a whole line, especially if there were more lines above it.

There must be something I could do to read a book on my own someday. I pictured myself with my nose buried in a thin book like Rosemary’s. I could imagine even harder books, like the ones by Charles Dickens that Sarah had read to me recently. They’d looked impossible with all that small print and so many lines jumblin’ together. But if I was to cut a piece of paper with a window in it to block off everything but one line on the page, and then add a strip of paper to slide over and show only one word at a time, maybe that would work for me. I could break down a long word into syllables if I had to. It’d be like turnin’ a whole page of print into a pile of Mrs. Wortham’s word cards. And then it wouldn’t seem so bad. Tedious, maybe. But not impossible.

I oughta try it. On a kid’s book first, even though I’d rather jump into reading the Bible or a newspaper if I could. I smiled to think of myself with a newspaper tucked under my arm or a Bible on a nightstand, and the good feeling inside that must come from having actually read it on your own.

But suddenly I felt somebody’s hand nudging against my shoulder.

“Franky?”

I turned my head. Sam stood looking at me with a funny expression. Albert was gone off my lap. Rosemary was gone too.

“Franky, it’s time to eat. Where’ve you been? Thelma called twice, and even Albert responds to hand motions.”

“Just thinkin’,” I answered him, a little disgusted that he prob’ly thought he’d caught me in one of those “spells” people talked about. My brothers all seemed to think I just blanked out sometimes, or had my head in the clouds like Pa used to say.

“You all right?” Sam asked me as I stood up.

“Of course I’m all right.”

“What’re you thinkin’ about?”

I didn’t wanna tell him. I figured he’d find it pathetic. Or funny. “Nothing much.”

“Lot a’ concentration for nothing much.”

I ignored him and went to the table. Thelma was serving roast beef, and she was mighty proud of the way it came out with her new oven. She was pleased as punch with this new house, I could tell. But I knew I needed to be spending the time while Sam was gone to work tomorrow getting that stair rail built. Too many little kids runnin’ around here to put it off. I told them I thought the little ones oughta sleep downstairs for safety until I got that done. Thelma agreed with me, and since the kids all wanted to be by me, we ended up camping in the living room that night.

Next morning I woke up before light thinking again about reading. In one of my toolboxes I had some stiff paper that I used for patterns, so I got a piece, put a light on in the kitchen, and cut myself a rectangle with a window and a smaller piece to move back and forth. The house was quiet. I picked up the book Rosemary’d been looking at yesterday, wondering if I was bein’ a dreamy fool thinking I’d ever really read.

I just picked a page—wouldn’t matter where I started— and covered all but one line. It looked like a crazy string of letters, so I hid all but one word and started in.

It was easier than I expected, one isolated word at a time. Reading a whole book this way’d take forever, but at least I seemed to be making progress. But when I lifted the paper to look at the line I’d read, the letters almost got lost in the jumble again. Why should this be so hard? I could hardly count the lines on the page ’cause they ran together so bad. I might have kept working at it, but sudden footsteps jarred my thinking. I slammed the book shut.