Song for Silas, A (3 page)

Walking to Grandma Em’s house from the church stirred up a bittersweet feeling in Silas. He knew that before the next Sunday dawned in Baxter, he would be on a small farm in Neillsville, Wisconsin, some 85 miles from his home.

As Silas walked up Grandma Em’s street, he savored the approaching spring. It was his favorite time of year. He liked to pray for new growth in his own life as he watched the flowers come alive and the trees sprout new leaves. The weather was a bit chilly and the new growth really hadn’t started yet, but there was a feeling of anticipation in the air, as though the plants and trees themselves knew something was about to happen.

Silas reflected a bit on the family with whom he was going to stay. Grant and Amy Nolan. Four years ago, upon the request of Pastor Nolan, Silas had gone to help Grant with his fall harvesting. Grant’s wife, Maureen, had died suddenly and both Grant and his 14-year-old daughter, Amy, were in shock.

Amy. Silas smiled. The sweetest little girl Silas had ever met. Not demonstrative and very quiet, she had grieved silently, keeping to herself in a way that was heartbreaking. She had not spoken over five words to Silas the first week he was there. But in time the ice had melted and they became close, despite the 10 years difference in their ages.

They had not corresponded through the years, but Silas had kept abreast of the family through Mrs. Nolan. Grant had not remarried and Amy had been engaged but that was off now. She would be 18 now—a grown woman. Silas found himself hoping, as he climbed the steps to Grandma Em’s front porch, that Amy would be as sweet as he remembered.

Sunday dinner was on the table and Mac had just prayed when Silas opened the front door. There was a round of hugs and kisses before everyone settled back down to the meal.

Silas had been all set to tell his family about his plans, but he was sitting next to his niece Emily, and she didn’t let him get in a syllable. She questioned him thoroughly about Paul and then moved on to the horses.

“Did you get horses?”

“I sure did.”

“What color are they? Can I ride one?”

Silas wasn’t going to touch that one. He shot a look to Emily’s mother, Susanne, but all she did was smile at him. No help there. A glance back at Emily told him she was awaiting his answer. Her eyes turned to him with hopeful anticipation. He knew he had to tell her the truth.

“I can’t promise you a ride right now, sweetheart, because I have to go away again.” As Silas expected, this statement captured everyone’s attention. He might have been surprised to find out they had suspected this when, after church, he’d told Luke to take the buggy and that he’d walk to Grandma Em’s.

“When do you leave?” The question was directed to him by his grandmother. He met her understanding eyes before looking at Luke to answer. “I was hoping Friday, but Luke and I have yet to talk.”

Luke nodded and the meal progressed. The subject of Silas’ departure was dropped, everyone realizing that Silas and Luke would have to talk this out on their own.

The front porch ended up hosting the conversation between the brothers. Luke’s twin brother, Mark, and Mac were also present. Silas told them the added information Pastor Nolan had relayed, and concern was evident on every man’s face for the trials of this family.

“How long do you expect to be gone?” Luke’s question was matter-of-fact, knowing Silas’ decision to go was already firmly planted in his mind.

“I could tell you a couple of weeks, but that’s what I said last time and was gone for six.” Silas was on the verge of saying more, but Luke cut in. “Actually, Si, I don’t know why I ask you. I think your decision to go is just exactly that—your decision. I also know you have not made this decision lightly. I know we’ll miss you, but we’ll manage.”

“I was thinking the same thing,” Mark spoke now. “Why wait until Friday? The Nolans need you right now and we can help at the ranch whenever Luke gets into a bind, unlikely as that is.”

Silas felt great relief at how supportive his family had been, until his sister-in-law Christine appeared. One look at the men on the porch told Christine the matter was all settled.

“Just like that. It’s all settled isn’t it?” No one said a word. “You’ve only just returned and you’re leaving again.” Her voice was not angry—resigned and sad, but not angry. “Well,” Christine’s voice had changed to determination just that fast, “if you don’t write to us at least once a week, don’t bother to come home.”

The tension was broken at this and Silas moved to give Christine a hug, thinking as he did, what a relief it was to be leaving with his family’s blessing.

“Did you write to Frank?” The question came from Luke as he and Silas headed toward the train station.

“Yes, I wrote. But if I know Frank, he’ll not accept my answer.”

Luke asked no more, fairly certain what Silas’ answer had been. The train was a bit late, giving the men some time to talk. Silas seemed a bit edgy, and Luke couldn’t keep from commenting on it. “Is anything bothering you, Si?”

Silas’ answer did not come immediately. He was feeling very unsure of what he would find once he got to Neillsville, and he didn’t want to burden Luke. In an instant he decided against it. “I’m just thinking ahead about my trip to the farm. I’ve got a long day ahead of me.” All of which was true.

Luke noticed the evasive answer but only said, “I hear the train. Be sure you write or I’ll be hearing from Christine. She really is in a stew over this. When she found out Grant Nolan had an 18-year-old daughter, I got the third degree.”

Silas laughed in delight at this. “She can certainly be the mother hen at times, can’t she?”

“Oh, Si, if she ever heard you say that…well, I hate to even think of the tongue-lashing we would both get.”

Silas agreed with him. While the men shared a laugh, the train pulled in and they stood. Luke opened his mouth to say good-bye, but Silas interrupted. “About your question, Luke.
I’m not sure what I’ll find in Neillsville, and it’s troubling me. Will you please just pray?”

“Every day,” Luke answered with assurance and, as he stood on the platform watching the train become a dot in the distance, he began right then to keep his word.

Silas, on the other hand, was not at all prayerful. Indeed, he was very tense. He attempted to empty his mind of all thought, but he failed miserably. His mind kept returning to the young woman at the end of his journey: Amy.

Silas settled back in his seat and gave in to the desire he had felt ever since Pastor Nolan spoke on Sunday, trying to picture in his mind what Amy was like now.

She had been rather coltish at 14. A bit on the awkward side, as if she were not sure what to do with all her limbs. Awkward, that is, until she sat at the piano. Silas had been mystified the first time he’d heard her play. Silas played piano and his family thought he was the best, but they’d never heard Amy Nolan. The keys somehow came alive under her small hands. And her face—it positively glowed while she played.

She was gifted, there was no doubt about that. At 28 years of age, Silas had listened to his share of pianists and he knew Amy was in a class all her own.

Silas had learned to play piano at his mother’s knee—the only one of five Cameron children to show a genuine interest. Being able to play the piano that his mother had taught him on somehow helped ease the pain of losing her. Kathrine Cameron’s deep love for music was transmitted to Silas through those times of practice and play.

For a short time right after her death, Silas had not played at all, out of consideration for his father. He could tell that hearing the piano pained his father greatly.

When the house was empty one afternoon, Silas sat down and played some of his favorite hymns. He had played along in a bittersweet state for nearly 30 minutes when he looked
up to see his father watching him. Silas could only guess how long he’d been there.

Silas bolted from the piano bench, stumbling through an apology as he straightened the music sheets with shaky hands. His panicky movements and words came to a halt as his father started toward him.

Silently, Joseph reached for the sheets of music. He looked through them slowly before placing a single sheet back on the music rest. A quick glance told Silas it was one of his mother’s favorites. “Play this one, Si. Play it the way your mother taught you.” He gave Silas’ shoulder a pat and moved to take a nearby chair. Before he finished the song, the entire family had gathered. One by one they entered the room, no one bothering to disguise the sound of sniffling noses. Silas barely made it through the piece.

Silas played regularly after that. The keys beneath his fingers felt like a balm applied directly to his soul.

Amy also had learned piano from her mother, but there had not been the same comfort for her. Silas had been in the Nolan home for over two weeks when, after supper one night, Grant asked Amy if she felt like playing. Silas hated the shy way she looked at him before telling her father no. He did not want to make her feel uncomfortable.

He had wished he could tell her he understood the hurt. He had been only 13 when his mother died. It had been only three weeks since Maureen Nolan’s funeral, but Silas knew from experience that to Amy it felt like a year.

Standing quickly, Silas made a snap decision. He faced Grant and spoke. “I know I’m a poor substitute for Amy, but if you’ve no objections, I’d like to play.”

Grant answered with a small smile, “Please, Silas, feel free.” But Silas didn’t move with Grant’s consent alone. He turned to the sober young girl in the room, who was regarding him with big, surprised eyes.

“Do you have any objections, Amy?”

“No.” She didn’t hesitate in answering, but her voice was so low that Silas saw more than heard her answer.

At the piano, Silas played wholly from memory. Within minutes, the other occupants of the room were forgotten as he moved from one song to the next. The piano’s tone was beautiful, and Silas pulled deep within himself as he played piece after piece.

He would never know exactly what brought him back to the present, but just then he looked over at Amy and she smiled at him. For an instant, Silas was so surprised he didn’t respond. It was the first time this quiet girl had shown anything past an indifferent, neutral acceptance of him in her home.

When Silas finally returned the smile, Amy’s grew wider. They sat there grinning at one another while Silas finished the song.

Not long afterward the three retired for the night. As Silas readied himself for bed in his small attic bedroom, he was sure the ice had broken through for Amy and him. He really did want to be her friend.

Every day for nearly three weeks Silas had worked alongside her father, working steadily even when Grant slowed down or came to a complete halt. After a week, Grant began to talk and Silas listened without comment to the man’s heartache, his concern for Amy foremost in his mind.

The days the men worked and talked seemed to be a gentle push for Grant onto the road of acceptance and recovery.

Not so with Amy. She grieved silently without complaint or comment. It was at this time Silas realized how much he’d taken his siblings for granted. Amy needed a big brother to help shoulder the grief.

As Silas settled into bed, he knew he wanted to be that big brother. “Please, God,” Silas prayed as he dropped off to sleep, “help Amy open up to me. Let her know that I care and
understand.” Remembering the smile she had given him, he fell asleep, sure that tomorrow would be different. But it would be a few more days and a ruined breakfast before the ice broke completely.

Silas was jolted out of his reverie when the conductor passed through the train and announced there would be a delay at the next stop. There were grumbles throughout the car, but Silas was just glad he’d left Baxter early.

The conductor said to feel free to get out and stretch a bit, so Silas moved out of his seat toward the door.

They were stopped in Elroy, a small town not too many miles out of Baxter. Silas quickly decided not to wander about and took a bench in the shade to watch the busy activity of the depot.

It wasn’t long before the sights of the depot grew mundane and Silas’ thoughts wandered back to the time he and Amy finally became friends.

Grant and Silas walked from the barn to the house. The milking was done and both men were ready for a big breakfast. They were greeted at the door not by the smell of fresh coffee and biscuits, but by the pungent odor of burned bacon and eggs.

Amy stood with the frying skillet in one hand while waving a dishcloth over the smoky mess with the other. When she saw her father, she simply said, “I’m sorry, Dad. Breakfast will be a little late this morning.”

“Don’t worry about it, Amy. I’ll wash up and give you a hand.” And that was the end of that. Amy didn’t cry or offer a long excuse, just a simple apology and it was over. Silas was impressed.

The moment of friendship arrived when Silas also washed up and, stepping behind Amy, took the burned skillet from her hands. “I’ll get this for you.” The look of surprise on her
face could only be matched by the expression on her face when he’d asked to play the piano a few days earlier.

Silas didn’t wait for a comment from Amy but simply proceeded to scrape the pan clean. Amy’s surprise turned to genuine puzzlement when he did not return the skillet but put in strips of bacon and began to crack eggs into a bowl.

The three worked together in silence, Grant and Amy both sending a look in Silas’ direction now and then. The meat was eaten as silently as it had been prepared. Grant and Silas were still at the table with their coffee when Amy was ready to leave for school. She kissed her father good-bye and then moved over to Silas. He smiled at her and said, “Have a good day, Amy.”

“Thank you, Silas.” Amy spoke these words just before bending and planting a quick kiss on his cheek. Silas turned to stare at her as she bolted for the door. Neither man spoke of it the rest of the day, but Silas noticed for the first time that Grant whistled while they went about their daily work.

A precious friendship began that day and Silas boarded the train with a feeling of contentment in his heart brought on by his reflection of that time. The friendship he and Amy shared had been special, one that no amount of time could obliterate. Each held a special place in the heart for the other.

The remainder of the trip, if uneventful, was less worrisome for Silas. By the time he arrived in Neillsville, it was raining. Silas had planned to hire a horse from the livery and ride the two-and-a-half miles out to the Nolan farm, but the rain caused him to reconsider.

Reasoning to himself there was no guarantee the rain would let up tomorrow, Silas went ahead toward the livery. He might as well get wet today as tomorrow.

It was dark and gloomy as he rode out of Neillsville, and he could feel the reluctance of the animal beneath him. Not
that he blamed the poor beast. This was not fit weather for anyone. Silas only hoped, as he picked up the pace a bit, that Pastor Nolan’s letter had arrived and his appearance would be expected.