Sarah's Promise (29 page)

Mr. Wortham wasn’t real frivolous with his compliments, but it was hard to let that one soak in anyway. “You taught me an awful lot.”

He shook his head. “You did most of what I can do when you were ten years old. There wasn’t much I could teach.” He picked up Mr. Willings’s horse. “You have a gift.”

The praise was a little unnerving. “That piece is commissioned by the bank. It’s gonna be the appreciation gift for forty years of service.”

“Nice choice.” He set it down. “Looks good in here, Frank. You must have been working day and night.”

“I ain’t been able to keep workin’ on new stuff every day ’cause I’ve been sharpening for people, doing repair, and sometimes helpin’ the church folks.”

“How’s that going?” he asked on.

I reached for Sarah’s hand. “Good. I’m looking forward to you joinin’ me this Sunday night when I speak.”

If I said all, I’d have to admit I was terrified about it, not for them to meet the church folks, but for them to see me minister there. Of course I was excited about it too.

We walked over every bit of the store and went outside to look a little more at the house. But it was starting to get dark, and Mrs. Haywood came across the street and greeted Sarah and her father like they were long-lost kin. Mr. Wortham thought it ideal for Sarah to stay with her. But he didn’t want to go to Mr. Willings’s house. Not yet. He wanted to stay at least the first night in the shop with me.

Long after the stars were out and Sarah Jean was surely asleep on one of Mrs. Haywood’s beds, me and Mr. Wortham lay on mattresses on the floor of my woodshop, staring up at the dark ceiling and talking.

He had more questions about the business and the house and where I stood financially. He had questions about the town and the church and my hopes for the future too. But after we went over all that, for some reason we weren’t done. We talked about my brothers and the feelings that had made me want to look around up here. I told him about Mr. Pratt and why I couldn’t make his plan and Sam’s work for me. But mostly, we talked about the call of God and what it can mean. I told him about me and Mr. Willings in the church, the Scripture about God using the foolish things, and how deep I was wanting to be used.

There wasn’t none of it that seemed to bother him too badly, but he already had a son halfway across the world. Prob’ly nothing I said could compare to that.

Finally, late into the night, we slept, and I dreamed about Mr. Willings’s horse running across the open prairie, and the carved eagle rising free of its branch-like base and soaring across the moonlit sky.

25

Sarah

I sat on the bed in Mrs. Haywood’s lovely guest room as early morning sun slipped between the window curtains. Surely I should be happy instead of feeling butterflies like this. Frank seemed so different up here. So energetic and purposed. He’d picked out a good store building and a house that seemed nice too, at least from the outside. He’d done an amazing amount of work in a short time.

Why did I feel like crying? He was happy. I had no reason to think he wouldn’t be successful here. He was proving his point. But far more than that, he was being used by God. Mrs. Haywood had told me last night what a blessing he’d been to their church, speaking faithfully on Sunday nights and taking care of needed repairs to the building, not to mention ministering to various needs among the congregation. She said Mr. Willings had health problems and though he’d become a wonderful pastor, he wasn’t able to carry all the obligations of the pastorate alone. Which made Frank a godsend.

And I knew what that meant. They leaned on him already. They counted on him, and that was likely only to grow, not lessen. He was planted here. Rooted, spreading out, and blossoming. Would I be able to do the same thing?

I really didn’t know. My mind said yes, and then again, I questioned.

Oh, Lord, I am such a ninny sometimes. I go back and forth so much! I want this for him. I want it for both of us. But then I turn around and feel like crying and hope he’ll change his mind. But it’s gone too far for that, hasn’t it?

Frank leaving now would be like cutting away a piece of that church and asking them to go on with a hole in their hearts. And it would tear at him too because he’d established himself. He was needed. To ask different of him would be terribly unfair.

I rose to my feet and opened the ruffly curtains. I couldn’t see the store where Dad and Frank would be because this was a north window and they were across the street to the west. But I could see just a bit of the house from here, and it was pretty in the early light. Frank had told me it would need work, but that was a good thing. It meant we got a better price, and we could fix things to be the way we wanted.

We’d be looking at the house more completely today. The Bellors were going to be gone, and Frank had arranged with them for us to be in the house while they were out.

He’d promised to show me more of the town too. And tomorrow would be Sunday. We’d get to see the church then, meet more people, and hear Frank speak. I should have been excited about all of this, but I was scared too.

I wondered if I’d been this apprehensive when I was five and my family left Pennsylvania to hitchhike across the countryside. We’d had nothing left when we arrived in Illinois, and maybe that was part of my problem, though things had worked all right for us. I was young back then but not immune to the worries of those Depression years. The farm had become security to me. We could always get by there, even if we had nothing but what we could pick of the plants growing around us. Here in a strange town, what could we do if times got hard again? Maybe the idea of moving made me feel like I’d been reduced to nothing again.

Trust.
The gentle reminder popped into my head.

“Oh, Lord, I know!” I whispered the words to the window glass and then turned around. Mrs. Haywood was up. I knew she was. I could smell whatever she was cooking, and it was wonderful. I should go and offer my help before Dad and Frank came across the street to join us.

But my thoughts wouldn’t leave me alone as I brushed my hair at the dressing table. Of course I should trust. That’s what everything came down to. But in a way I wished it didn’t have to be that way, that we could just go through life having everything the way we wanted and never have to worry about the unseen. Then life would be like heaven, wouldn’t it?

But maybe not. I wouldn’t have to have faith. Nobody would. We might all be like pampered children so used to treats that we’d never think to work for them or say thank you. God was far, far wiser than I was in knowing that wouldn’t be best for us.

As I set my brush down I wondered if Rorey ever worried about the future. She didn’t seem to. She acted far too full of herself and her ideas of fun to consider what lay ahead. But I didn’t want to think about her now. Here I was in Camp Point, my soon-to-be home. I had to find a way to be gracious and cheerful for Frank. He’d worked so hard.

I went to the kitchen, where Mrs. Haywood was making cinnamon rolls, eggs, and bacon. And a pie. “The pie’s for your dinner later,” she told me, even though I was sure Frank had said he was going to do the cooking for us for the rest of the day.

She let me help set the table. And oh, what a pretty table it was, with a linen cloth and napkins and gorgeous yellow rose china. I wasn’t sure I’d ever seen anyone put on a fancy breakfast before. She said she didn’t usually, but this was an extremely special occasion.

“I’m looking forward to having you for a neighbor,” she said with a smile. “I hope you’re looking forward to it too. Though of course I know I’m not the first thing on your mind.”

I wanted to answer sweetly and positively. I knew I should. I even tried, but I couldn’t seem to make the words come out. Not anything but, “Yes, ma’am,” which must have sounded ridiculous.

She looked over at me but went back to sprinkling cinnamon sugar over her rolled-out batter. “Don’t worry about being nervous,” she said softly. “It’s the most normal thing in the world.”

Somehow I found my tongue. “It doesn’t make sense to be nervous. Not for me. Frank and I love each other. I know we’ll be happy. And he’s doing so well here—”

I stopped. I really shouldn’t be talking about this. I barely knew this woman.

“But it’s new,” she said. “So of course you’re nervous. Should have seen me when I first got married and moved from my father’s farm to a little house on the other side of town. I cried for three days. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my husband. But I was only fifteen and I didn’t know how to be married. I didn’t know how to do anything, and I was scared as the dickens.”

“But I’m a lot older than fifteen,” I told her. “And I have no reason to be scared.”

She glanced over at me and nodded. “Except that it’s a normal reaction to change. Outside of birth and death, marriage is maybe the biggest change there is.”

I could almost wonder if this woman had been hearing my prayers. Were my feelings really normal? But even if they were, that couldn’t make them right. Faith wasn’t supposed to be bound up by fear. “I promised to trust,” I told her plain out. “But it isn’t always easy.”

She’d rolled her cinnamony dough into a big log and started cutting off generous slices. “Is it trust of the Lord or of Frank you’re having difficulty with?”

I wasn’t sure I liked her asking such a candid question. But it wouldn’t be right not to answer. “Maybe both. But neither, really. I do trust them. I love Frank. And he’s so sure he was led to live here. I can believe him. I can accept that.”

“You’re just not sure about rejoicing in it, yet, huh? That’ll come. Once you’re together. You’ll see. Best thing you can do for a man is believe in him. And he’s a fine man to believe in. He’ll take care of you. I have no doubt.”

“Has the business been good?”

She smiled and spread melted butter over the tops of her rolls. “He keeps busy. Good bit of it’s to be a blessing to people without asking for pay, but you might be surprised to know how he’s gained by that. People know he’s a nice, honest young man. He’s already gained respect, even among other businesses. Did you know he joined the business association?”

“No. I guess he hasn’t gotten around to telling me that yet.” I set out juice glasses, wishing Mom had come along. I liked working beside her and having her there to talk to any time I wished. Never in my life had we been so far apart.

It’ll be like this every day
, the fretful thought invaded my mind.
Only you won’t have your father here, or a train ticket to go home. This’ll be your life, up here alone.

I won’t either be alone
, I argued inside my head.
I’ll be with Frank.

Mrs. Haywood put the cinnamon rolls in the oven, and not long afterward I heard Dad and Frank at the front door. She sent me to let them in so she could drain the bacon. I hugged them both as soon as I opened the door. I don’t know why. I just couldn’t hold myself back from it.

“Sleep well?” Dad asked me, probably wondering at me seeming to cling to them.

I nodded.

“Gettin’ along all right with Mrs. Haywood?” Frank asked. Maybe he was wondering too.

“Yes. Fine. She’s a wonderful lady.”

I wasn’t sure of anything else to say, but there was no need. Mrs. Haywood had us all sit down for coffee and juice and served plates full of eggs and bacon. She asked Frank to bless the food, and he did without showing a shred of discomfort. We were scarcely started eating when she brought out the cinnamon rolls, piping hot and fresh from the oven. They were so good I told her I’d like the recipe.

The pie was gooseberry-apple and I knew she’d been talking to Frank enough to get to know him pretty well. Not many people ever made that combination, but he loved it. She insisted that we should take it with us when we left, and enjoy it along with whatever else Frank had planned for our lunch. It was her welcome gift.

After breakfast we went across the street. Stepping inside the house for the first time was a strange experience. Of course the Bellors’ belongings were still everywhere, much already in boxes. But I had no difficulty imagining what the house would be like empty, and then filled again with our things. A rocking chair made by Frank should sit by the fire, with my best woven rag-rug on the floor beside it. If these curtains moved with the Bellors, I would make new ones. Blue, to match the blue highlighted in that favorite rug. We would put Frank’s mother’s clock on the mantel with a candle on each side of it. We would have other chairs, or maybe a love seat, and a bookshelf, and a radio.

This house was a little like Mom and Dad’s, with two bedrooms upstairs and one down. But the sitting room was practically big enough to divide into two rooms, and there was an extra room besides, off in one corner. The house already had indoor plumbing. And a telephone line reaching from a pole out by the street.

Dad noticed things like the sagging basement steps and sticking doors that we would be able to fix once we moved in. Frank told us about patching the roof already. More than one room had bits of peeling wallpaper, but that didn’t bother me. We could make this a lovely home. Eventually, we would.

Frank showed me where he wanted to put in a garden. “It’s not too late to get something planted this year,” he said. “I thought I’d start on that next week.”

It gave me a good feeling to think about having a garden already here ready to come home to after the wedding. That, at least, would make being here seem not quite so strange.

“You want me to plant flowers too?” he asked. “Somethin’ that’ll be bloomin’ in June or July?”

“You might not have time. I hear you’ve been very busy.”

He smiled. “I can get somethin’ in. Just for you.”

He wanted to go for a walk again when we were done looking at the house. Dad stayed at the store. Frank and I hadn’t asked to be alone, but he was giving us the opportunity anyway. He picked up what looked like a scrap piece of pine and asked Frank if he could whittle on it while we were gone.

“Sure. Use anything you want.”

We walked past the train depot and back to the railroad park. Sitting on the rail of the bandstand Frank told me again that he loved me and was proud that I’d be his wife.