Stephanie Grace Whitson - [Quilt Chronicles] (22 page)

She was such a hypocrite. So certain when it came to telling Sadie that church was supposed to be a hospital for the sick, not a club for “good” people. And here she was in the predawn hours of a Sabbath, trembling with fear.

Sadie came to the door, yawning. “You all right, Ma?”

Margaret took a deep breath. “I’m nervous. Terrified, actually.”

Sadie shuffled over to the table and sat down next to her. “You said church was—”

“I know what I said. And I believe it. I’m just not certain everyone attending St. John’s has the same notion.”

“Why are you going if you’re so scared of it?”

“I promised to speak with Mrs. Moser about those recipes.” Margaret was surprised when tears sprang to her eyes. “And I want to thank Him—formally.”

“Thank who?”

“God.”

“For what?”

“For this.” Margaret gestured about them. “For Cass finding us. For Ludwig finding you. For a way out. A way forward.”

Sadie was quiet for a while. “You really think God sent Ludwig after me?”

“I’ve been remembering things in recent days,” Margaret said. “Things I used to know. Bible stories.”

“I liked the one about David standing up to that giant,” Sadie said. “And the lions not eating Daniel’s friends.”

“Those are good ones,” Margaret agreed. “The one I’ve been remembering, though, is about a shepherd who goes after a lost sheep. I think Jesus told it. Something about an entire flock that was safe, but one sheep wandered off, and the shepherd went out in a storm to chase it down.”

“Hmph,” Sadie grunted. “Folks I know usually just say ‘good riddance’ to people who don’t do right.” She paused. “You didn’t, though. You chased after me all these years. Cass chased after both of us until he didn’t know where else to look. Then when he found us, he stayed close.” She sat quietly, twirling a red curl around a finger. “Guess you and Cass and Ludwig have been like that shepherd, chasing me down. Trying to keep me from going off the cliff.” She got up and poured herself a cup of coffee.

Margaret nodded. “I think the real point of that story, though, was about Jesus being the Shepherd who came to earth to chase us all down.”

“You think church people see themselves as lost sheep?”

Margaret thought about that for a minute. She didn’t imagine church people had changed all that much since she’d been a regular attender when the children were young. “I imagine Cass’s church is made up of all kinds of people with hundreds of problems and just as many attitudes about God.”

“Cass likes it, though.”

“Yes, he does.”

Sadie was quiet. Finally, she took a deep breath and said, “All right.”

“All right … what?”

“I’ll try it out.” Sadie set her coffee mug down. “It’ll be a nice surprise for Ludwig. Just don’t you go leaving me to make small talk with church ladies.” She got up from the table and headed for her room to get dressed.

With every step closer to church, Cass expected Sadie to change her mind and run back to the familiarity of Ludwig’s house. Once they were seated in a back pew, she was as nervous as a caged bird. Ma was little better until Pastor Taylor, God bless him, stopped at their pew and welcomed them. He asked Cass to introduce his “visitors,” as if he’d never laid eyes on Ma and Sadie. Cass supposed there were people who might think that pretense a little too close to dishonesty. Cass saw it as a kindness. Beneath his smile and his greeting, it was as if the pastor was saying, “Who you were doesn’t matter. God offers new lives, and so do we. You’re welcome here.”

As Pastor Taylor made his way to his place on the platform, Cass glanced around just in time to see the three Sutton women slip into the last row across the aisle in the middle section. It was a bit of a shock to see Mrs. Sutton in full mourning, her face obscured behind a long black veil. He caught Aunt Lydia’s eye and nodded. She smiled at the sight of Ma and Sadie. Neither Mrs. Sutton nor Miss Theodora looked up.

When he glanced down at Ma and smiled, she tucked her hand beneath his arm then looked to the front of the church. As the congregation rose for the opening hymn, Ma and Sadie began to sing, and Cass realized that for all the time he’d spent trying to think of ways to rescue Sadie from Goldie’s or trying to talk Ma into leaving whether Sadie would or not, he’d never simply asked God to make a way for the three of them to have a normal life and a normal Sunday morning together. Yet here they were. Together. Singing, “
My faith looks up to Thee, Thou Lamb of Calvary, Savior divine…
.”

When Pastor Taylor got up to give his sermon, Cass tensed. They’d been studying the Gospel of Luke, and Jesus said some harsh things to people.
You see Ma and Sadie here, Lord? Could You just please make things go all right for them? Please.

Pastor Taylor laid his Bible on the podium and riffled through the pages. “Reading from the Gospel of Luke, chapter 15:

After reading from Luke, Pastor Taylor talked about how easy it was for people who’d been in church all their lives to think they were better than others. He mentioned logs and splinters in eyes and how Jesus had no patience with people who only pretended on Sunday.

“Our Lord Jesus,” he said, “cares about the heart. He is the Good Shepherd who risks everything for lost sheep. Whether they know they need saving or not, lost sheep are dear to the Lord’s heart, and we are all lost sheep. We may put on airs. We may like to pretend we are better than others. But the truth is each one of us owes everything to the Good Shepherd who came after us.”

Toward the end of his sermon, Pastor Taylor smiled over the crowd. “Some of you have been unhappy with me of late because you disagree with some of the things I’ve done. You think I’ve stepped over the line in chasing after lost sheep in Jesus’ name.”

Cass sensed Sadie tensing up in the pew beside him, clutching at her “schoolmarm” skirt as the pastor drew dangerously close to mentioning Nell Parker’s graveside service.

“Dearly beloved, if you don’t want a pastor who will go anywhere it takes to share the love of Jesus, then you don’t want this pastor in your pulpit. I love you all. You’ve been good to me, especially since Viola graduated to heaven last year. You’ve stood by me and been a great comfort. I hope with all of my heart that we can go on together, but I’m not going to change. I love lost sheep. And so should you.

“We are all sinners, folks. Our only hope is in the Christ who fiercely longs to rescue us and to have a relationship with us. Our only hope is in the Christ who has the power to transform us into new creations. Our only hope is in the Christ who went out in the darkness, where the night was cold and deep. And found the lost lamb.

“That lamb is you and me, folks. That’s you and me. Christ chased after us all the way to the cross. Our hope is in Him. And we owe it to our Savior to chase lost sheep in His mighty, precious, holy, redemptive name.”

As Pastor Taylor delivered his lesson on lost sheep and kindness, Juliana sat, her gloved hands clenched in her lap, her head bowed. She wanted to listen, she really did. But she couldn’t concentrate. Even here on the back row, she felt like she was on display. As if everyone in the congregation was thinking about that lost sheep Sterling Sutton and how he’d duped the poor thing seated behind that veil in the back pew. Poor woman. Poor thing. Poor fool.

Aunt Theodora had said that deep mourning was a protection. “It will encourage people to treat you gently, dear. They will know that you have had a grave loss. That you are fragile and deserve their tender care.”

Juliana understood the point, but as she sat here shrouded in a widow’s veil that reached to her knees, she didn’t feel protected. Not only did she feel as if she were on display, she also felt trapped. She dipped her chin and looked to her right. All she could see was Aunt Theodora’s gloved hands clenched in her lap. At some point during the sermon, Aunt Lydia had reached over and handed Aunt Theodora a handkerchief. A moment later, the sisters were holding hands, and Aunt Theodora was dabbing at tears.

Meanwhile, it was all Juliana could do to sit still. Her mind wandered. She didn’t dare look over, but she wondered how Cass’s mother and sister were faring with all this talk of lost sheep. Maybe everyone in the congregation felt like Pastor Taylor was speaking to them. Juliana supposed that could happen when a sermon was particularly inspired. But her own thoughts were darting from one topic to another as quickly as a lamb skittering about a pasture in a moment of panic.

Why was Aunt Theodora crying?

She should thank Cass’s mother and sister for rescuing her that day. Did they know she had deliberately shunned them? Should she apologize?

What would people think if a woman in full mourning paused to chat after a church service?

What would Aunt Theodora think?

She was supposed to stand apart. To settle into a pew, worship, and leave. But she didn’t want to do that. She wanted to say hello to Lutie Gleason and the quilters who’d been in her home. She wanted to meet Cass’s mother and sister and thank them for rescuing her. She wanted to tell Cass the exciting news about their plans for a Friendship Home. She wanted to ask him to bring the plans to the house so that they could all go over them together. Aunt Theodora had suggested it, but she would never speak up today. Especially not when she was apparently having her own problems with tears and emotions. Juliana wanted to move forward. Instead, here she was, hidden behind a veil.

Wasn’t going to church supposed to make a person feel better? It wasn’t working. She couldn’t even hold her hymnal properly without getting all tangled in black net. All because of Sterling. It wasn’t fair. It made her angry. Just when she thought she’d put the anger to rest and made peace with things after she’d emptied Sterling’s wardrobe and packed his things away, here it was again in full force.

She felt hot. Short of breath. Like she might faint. Perspiration trickled down her back. Her chest hurt. She tried to calm down. What did Pastor Taylor mean about logs and splinters? She should listen. She couldn’t. Something really was wrong. She was going to faint and make a scene right in the middle of her first service at St. John’s. She had to get out of here. Now.

Juliana leaned close, murmured “I’m sorry” to Aunt Theodora, and slid out of the pew. Thank goodness the back door was only a few feet away. One of the ushers followed her out. Kind of him, but she held her hand up. “I’ll be fine,” she said and crossed the carpeted vestibule to the exterior doors.

Finally outside in the sunshine and fresh air, she tried to draw in a deep breath. She couldn’t. She grasped the iron railing that offered a handhold for people climbing the stone steps up to the front doors while, with her free hand, she fought with the veil, finally managing to lift it up and over her head. Next she pulled her gloves off. Her heart began to slow. She took a deep breath. Another. And then she began to cry.

What was there to cry about? She couldn’t be standing here when the doors opened and the congregation began to spill down the stairs. She couldn’t just head up the street in this getup, either. Alfred had driven them to church in the town coach, but he and Martha had continued on to their church. They wouldn’t be back until their service was over.

For once Juliana wanted the town coach. If only it were here, she could climb inside and be hidden from curious eyes. She could escape all this pretense. She wasn’t a grieving widow. She was an angry woman who, at this moment, felt like shredding every bit of black in her wardrobe and doing—something. Something to escape.