Unbreakable (17 page)

Tuesday morning went by slowly
with only two ladies stopping by for supplies. Around three o'clock, the front door opened and Charity walked in.

“Hi, Hope,” she said, shyly. “Is it okay if I'm here?”

“I was hoping you'd come by,” I said with a smile. “How about a glass of lemonade?”

She nodded. “It was hot in school today. Lemonade sounds really good.”

I got the other stool out of the corner and moved it to the front of the counter. Charity promptly climbed up on it, plopping her schoolbag down.

I went to the back and got the lemonade. Then I put some sugar cookies I'd made over the weekend on a plate and carried them out too. Charity's face lit up when she saw the cookies. Lizzie tried to limit Charity's intake of sweets, but I felt she needed a treat today. And to be honest, I did too.

“Did you hear about the bad men that burned our house?” she asked as I put the plate on the counter.

“Yes, I did. I'm so glad it's okay.”

“Me too. Mama says God kept it safe, just like He keeps us safe.”

I smiled. “That's right.”

Charity picked up her glass and took a big drink. It seemed we were done talking about the fire. I was surprised but relieved to find her so calm.

“You're almost finished with school, aren't you?” I asked. “How's it going?”

“Well, I think I'm doing okay in English, but not so good in math.” She frowned at me. “I don't see why I have to learn all that stuff. No one ever asks me to add or subtract anything. I don't think it's very important.”

I laughed. “I use math every day, Charity.”

She wrinkled her little nose. “How?” The skepticism in her voice was clear.

I stood up. “Okay, let's say you want to buy this package of needles for sixty-five cents, and all you have is a dollar. So, you give me the dollar; how much change would I owe you?”

Charity shook her head. “I don't know. That's your job, not mine.”

I grinned at her. “Okay, let's turn this around. You told me once that you love the quilt shop and you want to work here with me when you're old enough. Do you still feel that way?”

“Yes. So you mean I might have to give someone change?”

“Of course. It's part of working in a store.”

“And that's math?”

“Yes, that's math. And what about measuring things? How many inches are in a foot? If someone wants three-fourths of a yard of fabric, how will you handle that if you don't know your math?”

Charity rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. “Okay, okay. I guess I do need math. But it isn't very easy.”

I handed her another cookie. “Do you have a math worksheet you need to do tonight?”

She nodded her head. “Uh-huh.”

“Is it in your bag?”

She said yes, although it sounded more like “yeth” due to a mouthful of cookie crumbs.

“You finish your snack, and we'll work on it together, okay?”

She smiled, a look of relief on her face. I was thankful we were only working on second-grade math. I'd had a tougher time with some of my more advanced math classes in school and wasn't sure I'd be much help with those kinds of problems.

“Hope, can I ask you a question?” Charity had a very serious expression, and I assumed she was either going to ask about her father or say something else about the fire.

“Of course you can. What do you want to ask me?”

“Are you gonna marry Jonathon Wiese?”

I was so surprised that for several seconds I couldn't think of anything to say. “Charity Lynn Engel, where in the world did you get that idea?”

She shrugged. “I overheard Sophie Wittenbauer tell Miss Leah that Jonathon said you were going to marry him.”

I had no idea how to respond. Why would Jonathon say something like that to Sophie? We weren't even officially dating yet. And of all the people to tell, Sophie was the last person in town who needed this information. First chance I got, Jonathon and I would have a serious conversation. With
Sophie running at the mouth, it wouldn't be long before the story reached Papa. I suddenly realized that Charity was waiting for an answer to her question.

“No, honey. We're not planning to get married. Sophie was wrong. Who else heard her say this?”

Her forehead wrinkled in thought. “Well, like I said, she told Miss Leah.”

“And what did Miss Leah say?”

Charity grinned. “She told Sophie she shouldn't be going around spouting off about stuff she doesn't know nothing about.”

I was fairly sure Leah had used better grammar, but I was gratified to know she'd corrected Sophie for gossiping.

“And I think Ebbie Miller knows.”

My heart skipped a beat. “And why do you think that?”

“'Cause he was there. He came to fix a couple of our desks.”

“Are you sure he heard Sophie?”

“Well, she talks really loud.”

I'll bet she purposely raised her voice so she could be certain he heard her.
“Thanks for telling me, Charity. Gossiping about other people's private business is wrong. You know that, right?”

She nodded, but then she frowned. “I know it's wrong, but it sure is interesting. That makes it harder, doesn't it?”

As upset as I was, I couldn't suppress a smile. “Yes, it makes it very hard sometimes.”

She took a big gulp of her lemonade and put the glass down. “Some people have been gossiping about me,” she said, looking down at the floor.

“What are they gossiping about?”

Silence.

“You don't have to tell me, Charity. It's your business.”

“My daddy is in jail. Millie Sims heard her mama talking about it, and she told me.” Charity's head hung down, her dark hair hiding her features.

My heart skipped a beat. “Does that bother you?”

Charity sighed. “It did at first, but then Mama and I talked about it.”

“And what did your mama say?”

She raised her head and her eyes met mine. “She said we should pray for him. That he needs Jesus. But then she made me remember that God sent me another daddy to take his place. A good daddy.” She smiled sweetly. “God must love me very much, I think.”

I returned her smiled. “Yes, I believe He does. Very, very much.”

“So now I don't worry about it. But I told Millie Sims that she shouldn't spread stories.”

“And what did she say?”

Her smile widened. “She said she was sorry, and that she thought I knew. I forgave her and now we're best friends. I think everything turned out pretty good.”

I chuckled. “I think it turned out great. Now let's get to your homework, okay?”

“Okay.”

As we worked through Charity's math problems, I felt a lot of joy seeing how her situation had resolved itself, but I was worried about Ebbie. He had broken off our engagement, and then a few days later he heard that I was
engaged to Jonathon. My mind spun with bewilderment. Was I really going to marry Jonathon someday? Whenever I was around him I felt flushed, and my heart beat faster. Didn't that mean that I loved him? He was a good man who loved God. His kindness and his concern for me touched me deeply. So why in the world was I worried about what Ebbie thought?

While Charity worked on an addition problem, I prayed silently.
God, I'm so confused. My feelings say one thing, and my mind says another. I can't separate them from each other. Please show me what to do. I have such deep feelings for Jonathon, but I can't stop thinking about Ebbie. Please, please give me wisdom.

We worked for more than a half hour, and although we got through it, I could see that Charity's weakness for math had nothing to do with Leah's teaching skills. Numbers just weren't the girl's forte. Yet I'd read some of her stories and had seen many of her drawings. She was bright, artistic, and expressive. God had given her many gifts, but a good grasp of mathematics wasn't among them.

She left around four thirty, excited to find out I was spending the night with them and happy Beau was coming with me. I missed Papa, but the idea of having an entire night with Lizzie and Charity had me almost walking on air. I could hardly wait to lock up the shop and go to the restaurant. I'd packed a small valise with my nightgown and fresh clothes for tomorrow. At five o'clock I quickly grabbed it, called to Beau, and we both took off for the restaurant. When we arrived, the dining room was only about half full. Callie saw me and waved me over.

“Lizzie's in the kitchen. She said you could take your things upstairs and then come into the kitchen with her and Charity.”

“Thanks, Callie.”

I worked my way through the dining room, Beau's nails clicking on the floor behind me. We had to stop several times so people could greet him. He turned out to be much more popular than I was. Beau dutifully stopped to visit every person. It was obvious he enjoyed the attention, but his tail continued to hang limp. I'd even gone so far as to check it out after the accident, making sure it hadn't been injured in some way, but it was perfectly sound. The problem wasn't physical. It was inside him. Even though he seemed happy most of the time, I could see something in his eyes. A shadow of pain. I could only pray that someday it would disappear completely. Until then, all I could do was love him and make sure he knew he was safe.

After making the rounds, we headed upstairs. I put my bag in the spare room and started toward the stairs, calling Beau to follow me. Instead of obeying, he turned around several times and lay down on the rug in the middle of the floor. I walked over and scratched him behind the ears.

“I don't blame you, boy. It's much quieter up here, isn't it?”

I left him where he was and headed downstairs and into the kitchen. Lizzie was standing over the fryer, pulling chicken out and putting it into a large metal pan.

“Hope,” she cried when I came in, “you're here!” She put a large piece of chicken in the pan and came over to hug me. She smelled of sweat and chicken, and I loved it. And her.

“What can I do to help?”

“Nothing,” she said, smiling. “It's not very busy tonight.
Everyone got to visit at the church supper yesterday, so most of them are staying home. I plan to close early so we'll have lots of time to visit.” She pointed at the small table she kept in the kitchen for Charity, who was eating her supper. “Have a seat. What are you hungry for?”

“I'm having chicken,” Charity said. “It's my favorite.”

“Well, your fried chicken looks and smells wonderful, but I think I'm in the mood for meatloaf tonight.” Lizzie's meatloaf was an often-picked choice from the menu. It was by far the best meatloaf I'd ever tasted, and with a side of her pan-fried potatoes, there just wasn't a better meal to be found anywhere. Of course, with Lizzie's food, it was hard to find a favorite dish. Everything she made was delicious.

She slid a pan of meatloaf out of the oven and sliced off a large piece, much too big for me, but when I protested, she just laughed. “Can't have you telling folks I don't feed you enough.”

While Charity and I ate supper, Callie and Lizzie filled the last orders. A little before seven, Lizzie closed the restaurant, and by seven thirty, all her customers were gone. We cleaned up quickly, and then the three of us went upstairs.

Charity squealed when she saw Beau and petted him with exuberance. Then Lizzie sent her downstairs to take a shower, reminding her exactly how to turn on the water so she wouldn't scald herself. Once Charity was gone, Beau got up and came over to where I sat. He plopped down on the floor next to me, his head resting on my foot.

“I can't believe how that dog has taken to you,” Lizzie said. “He was so close to Avery, I was afraid he wouldn't adjust to anyone else.”

I reached down and ran my hand over Beau's head. “It's funny, but he acts like he's lived with us his whole life.”

Suddenly, an odd squealing sound filled the room. Lizzie shook her head. “It's the pipes that run from the shower in the basement. I have no idea why they make that sound. The water seems to run just fine, but every time we turn on the shower, it makes that noise. I love this place, but I can hardly wait to have a shower that isn't two floors down and doesn't scream like someone is being murdered.”

“And you have to use the bathroom in the restaurant,” I said. “I'm sure you'd rather have your own.”

She nodded. “Living in the new house will be wonderful. I'm so thankful it was spared.” She sighed. “It's hard to understand how people who don't know us would try to destroy our home.”

“I know. I'm just grateful you weren't home when it happened.”

Lizzie snorted. “I think they knew we were gone. These men are cowards. Going after women and old men on the road. People who won't fight back.”

“Maybe their cowardice will work for our good,” I said.

Lizzie raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“Perhaps it will keep them from coming into town. Too many people to face.”

Lizzie sighed. “I wish I could believe that, Hope. But if they are convinced we won't fight back, what will stop them?”

It was a good question, and one I couldn't answer. “I'm so confused by the different opinions I'm hearing. Ebbie believes one way, and Jonathon believes another. Papa stands by our
teaching of nonviolence, but the idea that he wouldn't try to protect me if I was threatened makes me feel—”

“Unloved?” Lizzie said with a smile.

I shook my head with vigor. “No. I know my father loves me. It's just . . .” I sighed and put my hands up. “I don't know. To be honest, I don't know what I believe anymore. I wish I was more like you. You seem to know exactly what you believe. No doubts at all.”

Lizzie laughed and tossed her head back. “Oh, Hope. I have doubts, but I know I'm accepted by my heavenly Father. If I'm wrong about something, and it's important, He'll let me know.”