The Measure of a Heart (25 page)

“ ‘If I have to, I will,’ says Matt.

“That’s when the fight broke out. I told the boys to get on out of there. I didn’t know what might happen. These two had never turned on each other before. I was afraid someone might get badly hurt—or even killed. I didn’t know what to do.”

“You did the right thing,” said Austin, still bathing the open wound.

“Maybe’s he’s hurt worse than I thought,” said Mrs. Cross with concern. “I’ve never, ever heard him carry on like this before.”

Austin knelt before the man. “Matt. Matt. What is it? Are you in pain? What’s bothering—?”

But the man only sobbed harder.

“Maybe we should put him to bed,” said Mrs. Cross, and Austin nodded. It looked as if the bleeding had stopped.

Anna stood by helplessly while Austin helped Mrs. Cross get her husband to the bed in the next room. There seemed nothing to do but to go home. He was still crying when they left, but he appeared somewhat calmer.

“Well,” said Anna as they walked home together, “this is about the biggest disappointment of my life. I thought . . . I mean, I really thought he had changed. That Mrs. Cross would see the change for herself and soon be—”

“So did I,” agreed Austin, and his voice was equally pained. “He seemed so sincere.”

They walked in silence for several minutes; then Anna asked softly, “What do we do now? The church will demand his membership be revoked.”

She reached for Austin’s hand.

“We’ll have to discipline him. We have no choice,” he answered.

Anna felt the tears sting her eyes. It was so heartbreaking. Their one and only convert. The one who had given their ministry new meaning—new purpose. And now it was lost. He was lost. “Oh, God,” she prayed, “forgive us our failure. Our lack of wisdom and ability. We’ve let you down. I’ve let you down—again.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Another Blow

“Mr. Parks was here,” said Ben as soon as they had entered their kitchen.

“He wants to see you,” added Sid, turning to face Austin.

Oh, dear, thought Anna, has the word spread through the town already?

Her eyes lifted to Austin’s.

“Your mama wants you to come home now,” Austin was saying to the two boys.

They moved toward the door without hesitation.

“Thank you for the supper,” they both said as one and Anna nodded.

“And thank you for caring for Maggie,” she replied with a smile.

The door closed and Maggie began to cry. Anna bent to pick her up and console her. “The boys will come again,” she told the little girl. “Don’t fuss. It’s almost bedtime. No more time to play tonight. The boys will be back. Maybe tomorrow.”

“I’d better go,” said Austin.

“Don’t you want to eat first?” Even as Anna asked the question, she knew that most of their supper had already been eaten.

“No. I’d better check. Mr. Parks isn’t in the habit of making social calls at the parsonage.”

Anna could not help but smile, but a nervous twittering occurred somewhere deep inside. Why had Mr. Parks called and left word that he wanted to see Austin? She felt sure that he wasn’t out to take part in another “miracle.”

Austin left and Anna busied herself with getting Maggie prepared for bed.

She had just tucked the little girl in when she heard the door open. Austin was back. She gave Maggie one more kiss and returned to the kitchen.

Austin was pacing the floor, running his hand through his hair in his characteristic way.

“What is it?” asked Anna, fear gripping her.

“Mrs. Paxton,” said Austin, turning to face her.

“Is she ill?”

“They found her in her bed. They judge that she has been dead for a couple of days.”

“What?”

Austin nodded.

“But I just saw her—”

“Monday. That’s the last anyone saw her. When she didn’t come in for her weekly paper today, Mr. Parks got worried. They went to her house—and found her.”

“I—I can’t believe it!” cried Anna, the shock giving way to sorrow. She had learned to love the crusty old woman.

She eased herself into a kitchen chair. “Oh, Austin,” she said as a new thought took her, “she hadn’t made her peace with God.”

Austin began to pace again. Anna could see the muscles of his jaw working.

Anna began to weep then.

Austin crossed to lift her so that he could hold her as she cried. “It’s my fault. It’s my fault,” sobbed Anna.

“You couldn’t have done anything further,” Austin tried to comfort her. “She died in her sleep. No one could—”

“No!” cried Anna. “It’s my fault she hadn’t made her peace with God. I should have known something might happen. I should have—”

“Anna. Anna, hush,” Austin scolded softly. “You did talk to her. Remember? She shook her cane at you and told you never to mention the subject again. You told me about it.”

“But I didn’t explain it like I should have. Mrs. Angus would have known what to say—how to say it. Any other minister’s wife would have known. I—I stumbled and—and faltered and—Oh, Austin!”

Anna could go no further. She leaned her head against Austin’s shoulder and wept for her friend and neighbor.

They held the burial the next day. Mr. Parks was the one who made the arrangements.

“She left this sealed envelope with me, you see,” he explained to Austin and Anna. “I wasn’t to open it unless something happened. In it she said that she didn’t want a funeral. Just a burial. No sermon or anything. She didn’t put much stock in religion.”

Austin nodded. He had to concede.

Anna wished to argue. That was before, she wished to say. Before we came. Before she softened. Before she gave us her building for a church. Surely . . .

But Anna, too, had to concede.

There were only a few neighbors at the cemetery as the wooden casket was lowered. To Anna, it seemed so strange—so awful, that no one was speaking any word about the deceased. That no one was asking God for His mercy—or even committing the elderly woman’s body to the ground. They all just stood there and watched the coffin being lowered. Then they threw in a few handsful of dusty soil and walked away. Anna had seen animals buried with more ceremony.

With a heavy heart she walked home through the afternoon haze. It was all so sad. So final. Anna felt she wouldn’t be able to bear it. Mrs. Paxton was gone—and she had failed her. Had failed her in the worst possible way.

The church board met. Matt Cross had asked for permission to appear before them. Anna’s heart felt heavy as she waited for Austin to come home from the meeting.

At last she heard his step on the walk.

She rose to meet him, laying aside her Bible. She had been reading and praying, but it was so hard to concentrate.

Austin looked weary. Anna waited for him to hang his hat on the peg.

“What happened?” she asked.

“He’s been put on probation,” he answered, knowing that was what she wanted to know.

“For how long?”

“Six months.”

Anna turned and moved toward the stove. Her shoulders sagged. “Would you like some tea?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I think I’d like bed,” he answered. “This week has been a month long.”

Anna nodded. It had been a trying, a most discouraging, difficult week.

As they prepared for bed Austin spoke again.

“He was repentant. No excuses, only tears of sorrow. They didn’t remove his membership—just asked him to prove himself before he would be granted full membership privileges.”

Anna was glad to hear that.

“I guess it’s easy to sit back and judge,” went on Austin,
“when you know nothing of the strong pull of drink. His brother brought along this bootleg liquor. At first Matt firmly refused, but Mort kept working on him. Told him how good it was—and just to take a little taste and see if it wasn’t the best stuff he’d ever made.

“He took the first drink to try to get the guy off his back—but then there was no stopping.”

For the first time since the incident, Anna felt a bit of compassion.

“It was a bad mistake,” said Austin wearily, “but who isn’t beyond making mistakes?”

But such a costly one, thought Anna. “He could have been a testimony to the entire town—and he failed” she said aloud. “He should have been an example to his wife of what faith could do, and he has messed that up too.” It would take months, maybe years to gain back what he had lost. It was hard for Anna to forgive him.

“You should have seen him. He sobbed just like he did the night it happened.”

Anna thought back to that night. The weeping of the man had left her with nightmares. She had never seen such sobbing.

“You mean—when he cried so—that night—it wasn’t because he was hurt?”

“He was hurt—but that wasn’t what brought the tears. He’s a tough one. Mrs. Cross said she saw him walk on a broken leg without flinching.”

“I thought maybe that was the way he acted when he came out of a—a drunk,” admitted Anna, cringing at the crudeness of her own words.

“Guess some men do cry,” acknowledged Austin, “but that wasn’t his way. He usually was fighting mad. Crushing anything that he could get his hands on. Cursing and yelling and striking out. Everyone had to try to keep out of his way. Everyone.”

“It’s strange,” mused Anna. “But if only he had stayed firm in his faith,” she added.

“Well, that’s behind us. No use dwelling on it. What counts now is what happens in the future. We had prayer together. God is willing to give him another chance—that’s all that’s really important.”

Another chance, thought Anna. That’s what God is giving me. I need to pray more for the family. I need to show them I care. Really care.

And then Anna’s thoughts turned again to Mrs. Paxton. No possibility of another chance there. She had missed all opportunity to help the poor, bitter woman.

Oh, God, she mourned, can you ever forgive me?

Anna followed through with her resolve. The very next day she went to call on the Crosses. She didn’t know if the damage could ever be repaired, if Mrs. Cross would ever be convinced that Christianity was real, now that her husband had failed. But Anna decided that with God’s help, she would do all she could.

The woman welcomed her readily enough and Anna was thankful for that. They sat on the porch together watching Maggie toss a rag for Mutt to retrieve. Anna had made up her mind that directness was the only way to approach the situation.