Healing Thoughts

Because He is:

2012-01-17T17:20:00.001-06:00

Woman without her man is nothing-- With no punctuation, so does it mean: Woman without her man-- is nothing! Or should it be: Woman, without her--man is nothing.

Words. Punctuation. It is so important to communicate your thoughts, and intentions. Without punctuation much becomes muddled and lost.

Words by Jan Lazo-Davis: Because He is We can be--

The words and lyrics of the old carol 'O Holy Night' were written by Placide Cappeau de Roquemaure in 1847. He then realized that it should have music to accompany the words and his friend Adolphe Charles Adams(1803-1856)wrote the music.

O Holy Night!

O Holy Night! The stars are brightly shining,
It is the night of the dear Saviour's birth.
Long lay the world in sin and error pining.
Till He appeared and the Spirit felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,
For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn.
Fall on your knees! Oh, hear the angel voices!
O night divine, the night when Christ was born;
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!
O night, O Holy Night , O night divine!

Led by the light of faith serenely beaming,
With glowing hearts by His cradle we stand.
O'er the world a star is sweetly gleaming,
Now come the wisemen from out of the Orient land.
The King of kings lay thus lowly manger;
In all our trials born to be our friends.
He knows our need, our weakness is no stranger,
Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!
Behold your King! Before him lowly bend!

Truly He taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.
And in his name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
With all our hearts we praise His holy name.
Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,
His power and glory ever more proclaim!
His power and glory ever more proclaim!

We have heard fellow Christians denounce 'Christmas carols' because they oppose 'observing times and seasons' as it were. No where are we told to observe his birth, only his death. So the reasoning goes, but wait...

Many of these songs are just that, songs, and they teach--often--wonderful things. I don't know why we only sing them once a year...we need to ponder and sing them more often. They aren't necessarily just 'Christmas' songs.

John 1:1 In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. 2) He was in the beginning with God.

John 1:4 In him was life, and the life was the light of men. 5) The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it.

"Long lay the world in sin and error pining.
Till He appeared and the Spirit felt its worth.
A thrill of hope the weary world rejoices,"

Before Christ the world lay in sin, but when Jesus came --the spirit, the soul--felt it's worth! And even though the wisemen did not come to the manger itself, but to the babe in an actual house...the feeling still reigns that they--the wise men, and we as well--can still come to the savior. We can come to the King of Kings, the all holy and powerful.

Truly He taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains he shall break, for the slave is our brother.

Romans 6:20 For when you were slaves of sin, you were free in regard to righteousness. 21) But what fruit were you getting at that time from the things of which you are now ashamed? For the end of those things is death. 22) But now that you have been set free from sin and have become slaves of God, the fruit you get leads to sanctification and its end, eternal life. 23) For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Slaves! We were ALL slaves; servants of unrighteousness. Now we are slaves and servants of God! Before we were reaping the benefits of ungodliness, of sin and wickedness. Now, after becoming children of light... our wages are sanctification and eternal life!

John 1:29 The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him, and said, "Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world!

Truly, Because He is, we can be! Hallelujah! ~"Behold, the Lamb of God, who takes away the sin of the world! ~

Valley of Decision!

2012-01-09T17:20:00.000-06:00

We sit watching the movie, "It's a Wonderful Life," and as it unfolds during the banking crisis George Bailey asks the question of his patrons, "What do you need?" Meaning of course, 'how much will tide you over until you can get more. The question strikes me as odd, and out of nowhere catches my attention.

Often at the end of a year we hear people asking 'what do you want for Christmas?' Or, just plain- what do you want? However, is that the right question...

Through the years of Bible reading as I reread passages, on occasion one will jump out at me. I've seen it before, read it many times as it were, but this time...

Joel~ the son of Pethuel; Joel~ Jehovah is God. Joel begins with a call to God's people for prayer and repentance...but toward the end of his short book he prophesies: "Multitudes, multitudes in the valley of decision! for the day of Jehovah is near in the valley of decision." (Joel 3:14)

During the movie there are a number of the savings and loan patrons wanting, and in most cases, needing cash. One man demanded his whole amount -and receives it. Most, however, figure up what they need -to get by- and only ask for a small amount.

So, now, here we are at the Genesis of a new year. Not really a crisis, but maybe...

What do we need...Here are some things to put on your refrigerator: 1) Pray/read your Bible daily. This is number one. Get your life right with God. 2) Study, ponder, pray. Don't do things rashly. Do not take things for granted. Do only acts of kindness spontaneously, and then make sure they really are the kindness the recipient needs. (The bum on the corner may look like he NEEDS money: he may need a job, a Bible, (or Bible study). He may need something different than a breath mint... 3) Speak kindly; love others honestly. 4) Love yourself honestly. 5)Learn to look down the corridors of time. When you learn this art, here are some things you will understand: 1) Not all that glitters is gold; not all that is gold glitters. 2) Jogging may get you somewhere faster, but if walking is as fast as you can go...by all means walk. It's better than sitting. 3)There are things that will seem trivial today, but in the long avenue of life they will be very, very, VERY important. (I did not think it was important to teach my children the manner of 'Yes, sir. No, sir, etc. However, how important is respect? Respect of elders, respect of authority, respect of parents, respect of others, but most of all respect of God.) 4) Love is not pleasure, and the pursuit of happiness is not God. 5) With liberty and freedom comes responsibility. The more liberty and freedom the more responsibility. You can't have them, and expect someone else to pay for them. (Our ancestors and our soldiers may have fought for and in some cases died for these items, but unless we are vigilant even here on the home front...we will still lose them 6) Human beings, no matter how perfect, are not. They are not perfect, and THEY are not God. That includes yourself...give others, and yourself room for mistakes. We all need that room. 7) Just as no one lives in a vacuum, and no one is an island, what diminishes one person still diminishes us all. Sin is still a reproach to any nation. Proverbs 14:34 Righteousness exalteth a nation; But sin is a reproach to any people.
Time is not eternal, only God is. God is still the creator. And one day every knee will bow...
Romans 14:11 For it is written, As I live, saith the Lord, to me every knee shall bow, And every tongue shall confess to God. 12) So then each one of us shall give account of himself to God.

Revelation 20:12 And I saw the dead, the great and the small, standing before the throne; and books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of the things which were written in the books, according to their works. 13) And the sea gave up the dead that were in it; and death and Hades gave up the dead that were in them: and they were judged every man according to their works.

"Multitudes, multitudes in the valley of decision! for the day of Jehovah is near in the valley of decision." (Joel 3:14)

As we stand in the valley of decision...What do you need...?

Platform...

2011-11-28T09:22:00.007-06:00

"You {children} have the world by the tail, on a down hill slide!" My grandmother used to tease us. I have never quite figured out what she meant--exactly. It seemed at the time to mean, 'you children have life just pretty well near perfect--it couldn't get much better'. 'Down hill slide', of course would mean it was going like a sled on a good sledding hill. Sometimes though, it also means 'going down hill fast' as in things are getting much worse--fast!

Two years ago I attended a 'writers' conference', and I first heard/read that as a writer I needed a 'platform'. I will admit that I'm still scratching my head, attempting to understand the concept. I thought as a writer I sat down and began putting words on an empty sheet (or computer screen) and voila'! I'm now a...

Luke 2:49 And he said unto them, How is it that ye sought me? wist ye not that I must be about my Father's business?

As a Christian, and as a Christian writer--what should be my platform? What is my 'Father's business'?

For the moment--because when we stop to think on it we have different nuances to that question--let's consider the Old Testament:

Now these things were our examples, to the intent we should not lust after evil things, as they also lusted. 1Corinthians 10:6

Now all these things happened unto them for ensamples: and they are written for our admonition, upon whom the ends of the world are come. 1Corinthians 10:11

I enjoy reading and teaching about the Old Testament. There is much to learn from here. In the beginning it tells how the earth was created, how humans came to be sinful. Judges, Ruth, all the way through Esther shows how God deals with his children, all the way through the Old Testament scriptures it points to the Savior. And it does bring us to the New Testament:

Wherefore the law was our schoolmaster to bring us unto Christ, that we might be justified by faith. Galatians 3:24

History--we should realize that history is full of people, and full of their stories. We break the word 'history' into 'His story'--and it tells us how God deals with us, and what our relationship is to God.

But does that bring me to a platform? Sigh...unfortunately, no. I gather that a platform is supposed to be like a 'soap box'. Something that you stand on, in like manner as a 'bully pulpit', and tell people something they need to know.

From the perspective of 'my Father's business' there are many things this generation needs to know.

Number one thing this generation needs to know? God~ The society that we live in has swallowed the myth of evolution to the extent that it denies there is a true God. The concept of 'god' therefore was something that history-- ie. ancient people-- made up to explain our existence. Wake up world! Evolution is not a fact. It has not been proven, and not only that there isn't even a shred of evidence that supports it. It was invented by people who did not want to believe in God, and since they needed an explanation as to how the world came to be--besides the one of Genesis chapter one...they invented something. That something just happened to be evolution.

Number two thing this generation needs to know? Jesus~ 'As it is written, "Behold, I am laying in Zion a stone of stumbling, and a rock of offense; and whoever believes in him will not be put to shame." Romans 9:33

There have been enemies of the cross; enemies of Jesus all the way back in history. Satan attempted to snuff out truth, and salvation all the way back to the garden. Cain killed Abel the righteous son; the world was destroyed for wickedness, but there was still Noah...still--we are given Jesus the 'righteous one'. If Satan can discredit Jesus...and so it goes.

But where oh where is my 'platform'!?

So, I get a short conference with an agent. Knowing that I need a platform--a type of voice that says something to my audience, I want to catch the agent's interest. "My message needs to be heard..." I begin an introduction...

"Oh," he says, "publishers really aren't interested in platforms/messages. They are interested in what will sell, and what will make money..."

Sigh...I think I'll go back to John the Baptizer and his message--Matthew 3:2 "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."

And the message of Jesus; Matthew 4:17 From that time Jesus began to preach, saying, "Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."

It may not be a popular platform, but it is scriptural...

No Matter What...

2011-11-21T04:28:00.001-06:00

Many Christian Hymns are lovely and inspiring. I enjoy the ones by S.E. Samonte on you tube, the ones recorded by the Mennonite choirs. Sometimes I take time to watch the pictures and read the words, and as I do I wonder...

Most songs, especially the more modern they are, have the element of encouragement, some call for introspection--looking within before looking above. The 'martyr' hymns are different. The hymn, "Faith of Our Fathers", speaks of 'dungeon, fire, and sword', it speaks of 'chained in prison dark', and like them 'die for thee'. We often sing songs without much thought of what we are singing. In watching some of the pictures that go with other Martyr hymns I wonder...

Quite honestly, I don't really think I would choose to be chained in a dungeon, burned at the stake, or any of the various means of torture devised by wicked and evil people. And you may wonder...

Would the numbers change, or would they remain the same? The numbers of the faithful and the unfaithful...

You may wonder what do I mean by that? Well, I use the term 'I don't think I would choose..." but Satan is a master at what he does. He tempts humans to deny God. He tempts them to turn away from the Heavenly Father. I pray that if I had to 'choose' between God or something less, I would --no matter what-- I would choose to do right. Satan may 'choose' the torture--dungeon, fire, sword; or darkness dressed in modern licentiousness, fire posed in pornography, sword sheathed in lies and dishonesty...

We bemoan the sad reality of people leaving the church, or people in general turning away from religion, but no matter how sad the reality, only the 'tried and true'-- those who have been through one fire or another-- will be found faithful. And that leads me to the wonder--no matter which test we undergo, would the faithful be faithful --no matter what?

To Walk With...

2011-11-14T19:46:00.001-06:00

I think on the poem by Dylan Thomas, 'Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night'. When I was young I felt like I was fighting everything. As if I could never 'Go Gentle...into anything. The adults in my life did not have answers to many questions...at least not very good answers. They apparently were still fighting through their own set of problems. I sought for answers, and observing the problems the adults were having, I thought, there just has to be a better way.

When I found Christ and His Way, it was still a fight. There were some right things I had been taught as a young person, but now I had to try to sift through those things in light of what my Saviour taught through the scriptures. And now, I was the adult...according to the world's standards. And according to even my own ideas, I was supposed to have the answers and raise my own children, and yet it was still a fight.

As I draw nearer to the end of life my perspective changes with time. I do have the answers as it says in 2Peter 1:3 According as his divine power hath given unto us...'all things that pertain unto life and godliness'...through the knowledge of him that hath called us to glory and virtue:

The irony is that it is still a sifting. It is still a fight. There is so much dross in our lives today that there is a constant barrage of things that MUST be thrown away.

2Peter 1:4 Whereby are given unto us exceeding great and precious promises: that by these ye might be partakers of the divine nature, having escaped the corruption that is in the world through lust.

It SHOULD come easier as we grow older to throw away those things and escape the 'corruption that is in the world...', but alas, and I say this with a sigh, the 'lust' may change, but there is still the fight to distinguish the dross from the gold.

Yes, even growing older is still a 'growing' and 2Peter 1:5-8 exhorts us: And beside this, giving all diligence, add to your faith virtue; and to virtue knowledge; 6) And to knowledge temperance; and to temperance patience; and to patience godliness; 7) And to godliness brotherly kindness; and to brotherly kindness charity. 8) For if these things be in you, and abound, they make you that ye shall neither be barren nor unfruitful in the knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.

Well, I have spent a life time trying to grow in this manner, yet it still is a fight, because like a little girl playing dress up in her mother's dress, trying to hold up the skirt seems like an un-do-able task. I get one thing where I want it, and something else slips to the floor.

However, even as I think on the past, present, and future I sense a change. Maybe even a hope. 1Timothy 6:12 says: Fight the good fight of faith, lay hold on eternal life...,

What I want--as I near the end--is to be able to say with the Apostle Paul in 2Timothy 4:6&7: For I am now ready to be offered, and the time of my departure is at hand. 7) I have fought a good fight, I have finished my course, I have kept the faith...

2Peter 1:2 Grace and peace be multiplied unto you through the knowledge of God, and of Jesus our Lord,

-- I want to be able to say, yes, I can go gentle. I want to be able to walk with a peaceful heart...into that good night-

Hallelujah! What a Savior!

Who's It All About?

2011-11-06T16:24:00.000-06:00

What matters in life? How do we know what matters in life? If you are a young person certain things seem to matter that people older would no longer understand. For instance if you ask a soldier just returned from a tour overseas, 'what about the pimple on my nose?' They would think maybe there were other things more important, but to a young person the pimple is a real problem.

Perspective...it matters who you are and where you are in life.

Matthew 19:23 And Jesus said unto his disciples, Verily I say unto you, It is hard for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of heaven. 24) And again I say unto you, It is easier for a camel to go through a needle's eye, than for a rich man to enter into the kingdom of God. 25) And when the disciples heard it, they were astonished exceedingly, saying, Who then can be saved?

Looking at things from different perspectives can be like viewing a precious stone in the light.

An older friend of mine tells me, "When I was first a member of the church I was so envious of some of the other members. I just thought they had perfect lives," but she goes on to explain, "Then I got to know them, and I saw some of their problems, some of their struggles..." she shakes her head. "You know, I decided then and there I would not trade my few paltry problems for theirs. I'll just keep my life, and what I have."

From the outside vantage point other people may appear to have perfect lives. However, we need to be thankful for the lives that we have. Some people have the opposite situation. Their lives come across as a constant soap opera with problems oozing out of every corner.

'The buck stops here.' I do not know where the phrase originated from, but I do know what is meant by it. It means 'I have the authority to do what must be done, and I AM GOING TO USE IT!'

After reading an article about a child that survived an attempted abortion that sentiment was used. The child had been adopted by an --apparently-- loving family, and had been raised to be a responsible adult. She was now married, and now was expecting her first child. When as a teenager she had discovered the facts about her adoption as well as the attempted abortion, she had a mighty struggle in her emotions. Many questions, much anguish, but she overcame those feelings because, 'the buck stopped here' attitude.

In the same vein, I know of several cases that after coming from 'bad' situations, children grow up and decide on their own--this is not going to be repeated in my life, with my family...it stops here.

In the gospel of Matthew Jesus had just spoken to the 'rich young ruler'. He had just told him 'one thing thou lack'. (I wish I only lacked one thing to be perfect--sigh...but I digress...) The disciples are astonished...how hard is it for the rich to enter heaven? Who then can be saved? Their perspective was that when someone was 'rich' God was blessing them for the good things they were doing.

"If you give her the gospel, that will do more to bring her life up than anything else."

This is the point. Wealth does not get you to heaven. Jesus did not tell the ruler that his wealth had bought him a ticket to eternal life. The man was not a 'bad' person. In Mark 10:21 the text reads: 'And Jesus, looking at him, loved him', but he did have something standing between him and the eternal life he sought--his unhealthy love of his wealth.

Another point--poverty doesn't get you to heaven either. While it is true that the gospel can change or upgrade a person's life, it only works to the degree that it is applied. It is like medicinal ointment. If it is only left in the jar, no matter how lovingly it is looked at or fawned over--it will do no good unless it is applied.

Pride can be a problem whether one is rich or poor. Some have suggested that the term, "needle's eye', refers to a small door in the side of the wall surrounding Jerusalem. It was such a small door that you could only enter with the clothes on your back, and a person had to bow down to squeeze through.

Matthew 23:2 "The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses' seat, 3) so practice and observe whatever they tell you--but not what they do. For they preach, but do not practice.

If you want to upgrade in life, begin by taking responsibility for your failures. Apply the gospel, like medicinal ointment let it work in your life. Some times it may be painful, or it may cause a struggle in our lives.

Life will have problems, just don't let the problems in life be self-inflicted. When we are obedient to God, we must let God lead our life. Not in miraculous ways, but in honesty and truth. When Jesus tells us, 'Seek ye first the kingdom of God,' that is what he wants us to do...seek first the kingdom of God...

Who Am I!

2011-11-01T09:51:00.001-05:00

On a dark night, a night that has very little moonlight--how much bigger and brighter the stars in the nighttime sky appear! You can almost see the objects in the sky pulse and rotate around each other like beautiful dancers. How small and insignificant one human life gazing up at the creation of God seems!

Hebrews 2:6 But one hath somewhere testified, saying, What is man, that thou art mindful of him? Or the son of man, that thou visitest him?
7) Thou madest him a little lower than the angels; Thou crownedst him with glory and honor, And didst set him over the works of thy hands:

'What is man'?--this has been asked many times, and even though there are many variations on the question--who am I? What am I here for? Where am I going? Usually the person asking is looking for answers that will clear up their clouded mind.

Yet for all of this and in spite of our smallness, our wonder, and our confusion it would be comical if it were not for the audacity--many people still try to tell God what he wants and needs.

John 4:23 But the hour cometh, and now is, when the true worshippers shall worship the Father in spirit and truth: for such doth the Father seek to be his worshippers.
24) God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship in spirit and truth.

From the worship of God to living and keeping the will of God, people have their own ideas--and God ought to agree.

Just how do I know that 'God ought to agree'? I can't even begin to tell how many times when talking to another person about what the Bible says I hear the phrase, "It's my opinion".

And if the scriptures tell them plainly something other than what they believe, 'but it's my opinion, that'--and suddenly that scripture doesn't count.

When I was young, the movie "Wizard of Oz" was scary. That old witch seemed real to me. I remember the scene in the City of Oz when Dorothy and her companions went before the Great Oz. The old man behind the curtain was pulling levers-creating booming sounds, smoke, and what was supposed to be his image--out front. Dorothy, Tin Man, Lion, and Scarecrow were all frightened--shaking in their shoes so to speak. Then Toto pulls the curtain back and reveals the originator of the smoke and mirrors known as the Wizard. Dorothy is incensed...how dare he perpetrate this fraud on the unsuspecting victims!

Look around us. How many today are using the same tactics? How many let themselves out to be 'intellectuals', either of learning or doctors, scientists, financial instructors? The list could go on of the intelligentsia that are qualified to 'tell us something'. For example the ones that can tell us how to raise our children--though they have none of their own, or at best have only begun to raise theirs. How to be healthy? No problem, just plug in the right formula, and voila! You're good to go...How about scientist telling us how life began? No God involved of course, just a big bang...

Job 38:2 Who is this that darkeneth counsel By words without knowledge? 3) Gird up now thy loins like a man; For I will demand of thee, and declare thou unto me. 4) Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? Declare, if thou hast understanding.

Where were these chief scientists when God laid the foundations of the earth?

I'm reminded of Dorothy and the Wizard, except...Dorothy was scared by the smoke and mirrors, until she learned the truth. I can not imagine how this would play out if you flip the scene.

What would happen if the 'All powerful' appeared in humble clothing, but in the end turned out to be--'All powerful'? Instead of attempting to frighten us with his smoke and mirrors what if he appeared as...

Matthew 11:28 Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. 29) Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls. 30) For my yoke is easy, and my burden is light.

What if he was easily approached; as it were someone gentle and loving?

It is easy to be confident when boasting to your friends, family, or even to just lowly fellow human beings. However, what happens when a person is boasting about something, and then they realize someone in authority, or someone bigger than they are is right behind them ready to call their boast or bluff?

Would they find themselves in the predicament as Job did when he was confronted by God? Job 40:4 Behold, I am of small account; what shall I answer thee? I lay my hand upon my mouth. 5) Once have I spoken, and I will not answer; Yea, twice, but I will proceed no further.

Here in lies the problem. We may think we know the answers, but quite often we don't even know the questions. Who do we think we are to give God advice? It seems fashionable that religion--Christ's religion--is out of style. Eastern mysticism? that's fashionable. Islam? yeah, that's fashionable. Some call these things 'ancient' religions. Under the humanist manifesto, however, Christianity--a much older religion--is a 'dead, decaying corpse'.

I have seen the 'O look', trick on old cowboy shows used to deceive the person holding the weapon. In an attempt get them to look away from the victim, or to look 'behind' them self they say 'watch out behind you!'. That trick is used to take the attention somewhere else. We also see it with the kingdom of Satan.

1Peter 5:8 Be sober, be watchful: your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour,

Satan knows that if he can convince people that religion is irrelevant, or convince us that we can 'choose' our way to heaven (or better yet convince people there is no heaven, or hell), those people are no longer a threat to him.

Ephesians 3:10 to the intent that now unto the principalities and the powers in the heavenly places might be made known through the church the manifold wisdom of God,

We must wipe away the smoke and mirrors to see the wisdom of God. Wipe away the smoke and mirrors that Satan uses. Come back to the Bible, the scriptures, and find what was originally intended. We must stop trying to tell God what he wants. We must stop it--and begin to listen to what He wants.

Gilbert K. Chesterton said it well: "Christianity has not been tried and found wanting; it has been found difficult and not tried."

Genesis 3:14 And Jehovah God said unto the serpent,...cursed art thou above all cattle, and above every beast of the field;... 15) and I will put enmity between thee and the woman, and between thy seed and her seed: he shall bruise thy head, and thou shalt bruise his heel.

Jesus has dealt Satan a death blow. Satan, the prince of darkness, knows this, but is determined to take as many with him as he can. God has sent/left/given us the Truth, but the world chooses to ignore it, and thus seals it's own doom.

Ephesians 5:8 For ye were once darkness, but are now light in the Lord: walk as children of light 9) (for the fruit of the light is in all goodness and righteousness and truth), 10) proving what is well-pleasing unto the Lord;

Christians were once part of Satan's kingdom, part of the darkness. But, thanks be to God who through Jesus sacrifice allows us an avenue of escape from that kingdom of darkness into the heavenly kingdom of light:

Ephesians 6:12 For our wrestling is not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the world-rulers of this darkness, against the spiritual hosts of wickedness in the heavenly places.

And the refrain of the song, and the question runs in my thoughts: Who Am I that a king should come and die for? Who Am I that He would pray 'not my will, (but)thine for?

Isaiah 53:1 Who hath believed our message? and to whom hath the arm of Jehovah been revealed?
2) For he grew up before him as a tender plant, and as a root out of a dry ground: he hath no form nor comeliness; and when we see him, there is no beauty that we should desire him.
3) He was despised, and rejected of men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief: and as one from whom men hide their face he was despised; and we esteemed him not.
4) Surely he hath borne our griefs, and carried our sorrows; yet we did esteem him stricken, smitten of God, and afflicted.
5) But he was wounded for our transgressions, he was bruised for our iniquities; the chastisement of our peace was upon him; and with his stripes we are healed.
6) All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned every one to his own way; and Jehovah hath laid on him the iniquity of us all.
7) He was oppressed, yet when he was afflicted he opened not his mouth; as a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and as a sheep that before its shearers is dumb, so he opened not his mouth.
8) By oppression and judgment he was taken away; and as for his generation, who among them considered that he was cut off out of the land of the living for the transgression of my people to whom the stroke was due?
9) And they made his grave with the wicked, and with a rich man in his death; although he had done no violence, neither was any deceit in his mouth.
10) Yet it pleased Jehovah to bruise him; he hath put him to grief: when thou shalt make his soul an offering for sin, he shall see his seed, he shall prolong his days, and the pleasure of Jehovah shall prosper in his hand.
11) He shall see of the travail of his soul, and shall be satisfied: by the knowledge of himself shall my righteous servant justify many; and he shall bear their iniquities.
12) Therefore will I divide him a portion with the great, and he shall divide the spoil with the strong; because he poured out his soul unto death, and was numbered with the transgressors: yet he bare the sin of many, and made intercession for the transgressors.

Indeed, who am I? Hallelujah--what a Savior!

Questions/answers

2011-10-23T15:05:00.007-05:00

Proverbs 16:1 The plans of the heart belong to man; But the answer of the tongue is from Jehovah.

Beauty...what is beauty?

When we look through the pages of magazines we will often find what the world sees as beauty. It glitters, it sparkles, it shines and shimmers. As Christians what should we see as beauty? From ancient times until now, in all societies beauty is a thing to be desired.

Proverbs 31:30 Grace is deceitful, and beauty is vain; But a woman that feareth Jehovah, she shall be praised.

This chapter in Proverbs has been almost beaten to death, yet for all of that beating it has just been barely touched for its lessons.

I have seen women who are 'graceful' in their lives. They do so many things with just the right touch, say the right things, at the right times...

I have seen extremely beautiful women. At least to look upon...

I have seen women who are a combination of the two qualities; both beautiful and graceful. The question comes, however, as the Proverb says grace is deceitful, and beauty is vain...what is true beauty?

The Quakers, for example, believed any frivolous ornamentation (jewelry, lace, fancy additions of those types)was wrong...was frivolous and as such vain.

I believe the Amish have similar beliefs and are very careful as to patterns in clothing, style, and the such like.

In most modern congregations you can find almost any teaching that will tickle your fancy. We, of course, are often told that there is 'no such custom' for any of these things. Most teaching is very vague on the subject as to what is 'proper' these days. (We don't want to be 'old fashioned' we might turn someone 'seeking' Christianity off/turn them away from seeking--as it were, but...

As a Christian who is attempting to please God first, what is right?

These are some of what I have come to observe, and it may be helpful for others who are looking for some guide lines along the path.

I hadn't been converted long when the question about make up came to me, and true to my nature I wrestled with the question. I asked the preacher at our congregation about this question, and he took me to the scriptures. We went to I Timothy 2:9-10; I Peter 3:1-5.

1Timothy 2:9 In like manner, that women adorn themselves in modest apparel, with shamefastness and sobriety; not with braided hair, and gold or pearls or costly raiment;
10) but (which becometh women professing godliness) through good works.

1Peter 3:1 In like manner, ye wives, be in subjection to your own husbands; that, even if any obey not the word, they may without the word be gained by the behavior of their wives; 2) beholding your chaste behavior coupled with fear. 3) Whose adorning let it not be the outward adorning of braiding the hair, and of wearing jewels of gold, or of putting on apparel; 4) but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in the incorruptible apparel of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price. 5) For after this manner aforetime the holy women also, who hoped in God, adorned themselves, being in subjection to their own husbands:

My fist reaction was that make up and jewelry would be wrong. Then we began to look through the items. I Timothy begins with the goal of modest apparel, shamefastness, and sobriety, and then contrasts it with braided hair, and gold or pearls or costly raiment.

So, are these opposites? Are modest apparel, shamefastness, and sobriety, an opposite to braided hair, and gold or pearls or costly raiment?

It depends. Some to whom this writing is addressed to will remember my mother-in-law. Marie had some very nice jewelry, but none of it would have been considered 'gaudy', or showy. I would describe it more as 'elegant'. It wasn't worn to draw undue attention to her person, but rather to compliment the 'modest apparel' that she wore. Marie didn't wear 'make up', but she did spend time taking care of her complexion so that she appeared pleasant.

In I Peter we can focus on verses 3 and 4.-- 3) Whose adorning let it not be the outward adorning of braiding the hair, and of wearing jewels of gold, or of putting on apparel; 4) but let it be the hidden man of the heart, in the incorruptible apparel of a meek and quiet spirit, which is in the sight of God of great price.

Here is the outward adorning ie. braiding hair, wearing jewels, and putting on apparel. These are contrasted to the hidden man of the heart: incorruptible apparel ie. meek and quiet spirit.

The apostle here is speaking to a culture, not much unlike ours of today, in which women based their worth on the outward physical beauty. Women would spend hours braiding their long hair (or having their hair braided). Having pearls, ornaments, ribbons, and etc., braided into their tresses, as well as wearing gold and jewels, and 'costly' garments--in order to be noticed, to be thought highly of. The braiding of hair in order to keep it contained and neat in itself isn't what is being spoken about. The apostles both are drawing contrasts between the extra ordinary care of the worldly--those things which will pass away. The dead, dying, decaying things of the flesh (body), and the things of heaven (spiritual) which are eternal.

God enjoys beautiful things. We see those things all around us in His creation...the beauty of the sunrise/sunset, light shimmering on the water, moon rise, stars twinkling, flowers...and more. So, here is the rub, where does a Christian draw the line?

A Victorian woman accepted that she had a duty to look and conduct herself as a lady. She took care of her body, but it wasn't supposed to be her focus. I believe if we look back to the Victorians we could see grace and beauty combined in such a fashion. Men attempting to be gentlemen, and women striving to be ladies.

Contrast that to a walk in the mall today. Things that should not be seen in Christian females ( or Christian men either for that matter)? Punk hair sticking out all over (or outlandish hair style/colors)or too much make up done in an outlandish manner. The women may not have spent hours to achieve the 'look', but their objective is to shout to the world 'look at me, ain't I something!'. There is no 'meek and quiet spirit' there. Tattoos are the same, again seeking to draw attention to the person, and ditto with outlandish body piercings. Women (and men as well) seeking personal recognition through vanity.

Clothing should not be gaudy, even though we are encouraged to want dazzling. We want to be the 'fairy princess' in the shimmering gown no matter what age--it's just sometimes the shimmering gown may look like a pair of 'cool' blue jeans, or whatever the 'in' thing is. (Mothers, here is a caution. Is it right to encourage your young girls in these choices ie. wanting to be the 'fairy princess'? My caution is that it gives them a false goal. It encourages them to set their heart on frivolous/vain things of this world, wanting to be the 'center' of attention. Help them first and foremost to make wise choices. To understand heavenly as contrasted to earthly.)

Clothing doesn't necessarily need to be plain and ugly. There is a difference between much of what is worn today and true 'style'. The french call it 'je ne c'est quoi'...that little something (but I don't know exactly what it is)that sets something/someone apart from others. You can see it in the quality of the material used, the tailoring on the garment (mostly lacking in off the rack clothing of today)--it's called 'style'.

Buying expensive name brands for the sake of impressing others...not a good idea either. Now, for certain items the name that you buy denotes 'quality'. I love percale sheets. The higher the thread count, generally the better the sheets. But I don't buy the brand to impress others. My mother used to tell us girls, 'buy the best you can afford'. Meaning buy 'quality', because it is quality for a reason. It was not that she intended to impress her neighbors, it was because it wore or lasted, or had some value above that of lower quality.

Another caution for Christian women. Listen to your men folk. God did put the husband to be the head of the household for more than one good reason. How many times I have heard women say things like, "My husband doesn't want me/our daughter to wear such and such item, but I think...". Warning bells should go off when our guys say things like 'That's not something you/our daughter should wear. As a married woman, let me tell you, men don't think like women. That could be funny, but it is true. Women may wear an item thinking they look 'good', but looking 'hot' to a guy, doesn't necessarily mean you need a fan.

True, some fellows have an over active mind, but are those the kind of men you want following after you, or someone you love? And why would a Christian woman want to put those kinds of thoughts into someone's mind (other than their mate)and/or tempt someone who is trying to live godly? In the current world that we live in it is growing increasingly important for women to listen when their men caution them about their clothing, or demeanor.

It is important as well that we protect our men by not wearing ungodly clothing. We see it quite often, even among the 'elect'. Clothing that is: short, tight, clingy, low cut. Even things that could be modest that are too tight. I've watched 'Gone With the Wind' a number of times, and I remember what happened when Scarlet was told not to drive through shanty-town, but did anyway. Her husband ended up getting killed... We live in an increasingly hostile and dangerous world.

It is said that hostile acts committed against women is not based necessarily on what 'the' women are wearing. Honestly? It may not be based on what the woman attacked was wearing, but by what the man/men were viewing before the attack. Think about that one. The society we live in is very lax, lazy, and immoral. Since Christians are to be the salt and the light, have we been showing the preserving 'gospel'? Or are we just showing a reflection of the world around us?

Look around you...back to the magazines with the dolled up beauties and the warped sense of beauty. A Christian woman needs to keep in mind this world is not our home, we have a treasure and a citizenship beyond this world.

---But a woman that feareth Jehovah, she shall be praised.--- Proverbs 31:30

Some Wonderful Day...

2011-10-13T10:56:00.000-05:00

Odd how a song can get stuck in my mind and just repeat itself. Events are often the same with me. Something can upset me and I'll worry at it all day like a puppy with a chew toy. What should I have done? What could I have done...all sorts of questions run helter skelter in my thoughts, and at the end of it all most of the time I still don't have a good answer.

Ecclesiastes 7:13 Consider the work of God: for who can make that straight, which he hath made crooked?

Consider the work of God...

Do we stop to think on the things that God has done, is doing, and will do?

This morning was beautiful--the autumn leaves beginning to turn and fall. The smell of wet leaves permeates the air along with the other smells of farm crops waiting for the harvest, gardens waiting for their fruit to be taken care of and the garden space to be put to rest for the winter. The squirrels scamper about to find and tuck away walnuts for their pantries, and a number of other duties clamor that winter is coming.

God set in motion (and upholds) the seasons. Each season has its beauties, but

Who can make that straight which he hath made crooked...

"You may not believe this, but I don't always drive fast, Mom..." my son says to me.

"I don't either, Buddy, I've found that getting there quicker isn't always all it's cracked up to be..."

We both laugh. Some times things don't always make sense. They just flat don't. Some days it is our limited knowledge, sometimes things just are what they are. That's alright, God knows. We are all His work in progress, and how much better we would all be if only we would let Him do the polishing, and just co-operate. Too often we turn our lives over to God--for a little while, but then we want it back! (We want to do what WE want to do.)

So, the song by Tom Holland continues to run in my mind: Some wonderful day, when my Lord shall call--

Too many people live as if there is no God, there will be no final giving answer to God's judgement, as if this life here were the only thing there has been or ever will be.

Revelation 20:12 And I saw the dead, the great and the small, standing before the throne; and books were opened: and another book was opened, which is the book of life: and the dead were judged out of the things which were written in the books, according to their works.

Some wonderful day when my Lord shall call! Hallelujah, what a Savior!

chapter 45

2011-08-26T22:27:00.000-05:00

"You look like you've had a nasty shock. Is something amiss?" Mr. Armwel noted the ashen look on his companion's face.

"My money was in my inside coat pocket...but it's not there now."

"How could that be?! Let me get your breakfast..."

"No, no--" Gene pulled a coin purse from his pocket and snapped it open. I've got the thirty-five cents here, a tip, and even ten cents besides. ...I don't know how it happened. Must have been--well, I just don't know." He snapped his coin purse shut and stuck it back into his pants pocket.

"It's going to be a long trip. Do you have anything to tide you over?"

"My Aunt sent me a package of sandwiches to 'fill in the gaps' as she calls it, and I only had my traveling money in my coat pocket," he said with a dark frown. It will make things short though," he left a nickel by his coffee cup. "It could be worse."

"Well, back to the station," Mr. Armwel turned toward the station as they walked out the restaurant door into the street.

"Unrest in Europe! Read all about it!" a thin ten year old boy wearing what looked like his brother's coat wrapped around him, stood at the street corner peddling his wares. He waved the morning paper in the air, "Get your paper now! Read all about it--trouble brewing overseas!"

"I'll take one of those..." Mr. Armwel raised a hand toward the boy.

"Thank you, mister!" the boy pocketed the nickel and handed him the paper.

"Why aren't you in school?" the man spoke disapprovingly.

"I'm here for my Pa. He's sick."

Mr. Armwel made a clucking noise, shook his head and the pair continued with their progress toward the station...

"You go ahead. I'll catch up," Gene turned back.

Gene came back a few seconds later to find the older gentleman watching him with a quizzical air.

"I've been there--" Gene said with a shrug.

"But?"

"That's alright--mine's only temporary..."

"Oh, the confidence of youth..." he sighed with a slight smile. "Might as well find a seat in here. The express won't be coming in for about forty-five minutes yet..."

Charles Armwel read through the paper pointing out several articles and expanding on what the paper had written. He was quite knowledgeable about the problems in Europe.

"This is our ride coming in," Gene stood and watched as the huge black engine roared into the station. He didn't mind train rides, but he would be glad to get to his destination!

"By this time tomorrow morning we should be drawing near Broad street Station in Richmond. Just a little over twenty-four hours," Mr. Armwel stood up, watching the approaching train.

"I'll still be in the middle. Not home, but not sure where," Gene remarked.

"At your age--it should be an adventure. At one time I enjoyed adventures."

"It won't be so bad," Gene said following Mr. Armwel down the aisle between the seats. "It's just the uncertainty."

"That's what makes it an adventure, Laddie! Would you like to peruse the newspaper when I'm finished?"

"Yes, yes, I would..." Gene sat down in the seat in front of his companion. Turning sideways in his seat, he leaned against the window in order to look behind. "What do you think of this article here?" He pointed at the bold headline: "France Blames U.S. For It's..."

"Well now, read it to me. A lot of young men your age wouldn't really care," he leaned back slightly in his seat. "But they ought to--"

***************************************************

Gene sighed as he looked over the letter he was writing. The large many paned window overlooking the rugged back of the estate drew his gaze. His eyes restlessly flitted over the expansive back yard as he sat at the desk in his bedroom. This room was almost as large as the whole downstairs back home.

It had been a long two weeks since he had arrived in Richmond, Virginia. What to tell his aunt and uncle? Would it worry them to know the flighty nature of the young people in his current society? Every evening there were opportunities to attend parties. The people in this society seemed bent on running themselves into early graves. Gene did not notice that he sighed again as he pondered on what message to send.

There was a soft tap at his door. "Who is it?" he answered.

He could not quite hear the soft reply. He slid his chair back from the desk, went to the door and opened it a slight space. A vision of soft blue and gold, stood in the hall.

"It's me," Angela said. "I wanted to talk to you...privately." Her blue eyes had a troubled look.

"Sure..." Gene said stepping out into the hall beside her. "Let's go...," he hesitated looking both ways up and down the wide hallway. "There's a library this way...we should have space for a private conversation," he took her by the elbow and guided her down the hall and through a door.

"This is sure a warm winter," he said as he shut the door behind them and they crossed the room toward the window seat.

"It would be back where you're from, but it's normal for here...Oh Gene! I'm so glad you've come," she turned toward him.

"So, what's the problem?" Gene came to a sudden stop to avoid running into her.

"I...I'm not sure." she sat down on the pillowed seat carefully as the light of the large lattice window filtered softly into the library. Her long silken hair was like spun gold, her eyes sky blue. Sighing and looking out over the front lawn, where a slight skiff of snow lay melting, she played with the fringe on a pillow.

"Not sure?" he raised his eyebrows.

"Go ahead, sit down," she motioned. "I don't think it would cause a scandal if you did..."

Gene looked around at the neat orderly room full of books, a large desk, a settee with a few small tables... Close to the fireplace there were a few scattered chairs. "I'll just--," he walked over and picked up a light graceful Queen Anne style chair. Carrying it without effort, he placed it by the window. "Put this here...So, what do you need to talk about?" he sat down and leaned slightly forward in the chair and waited.

Angela thought how wonderfully strong and capable Gene was. Much more than most of the young men she had lately been exposed to. Memories of Gene sitting astride powerful, beautiful horses--even dressed in a farmer's clothing he had style--or dressed in his tuxedo for the dinner party, or just a regular suit leading singing or prayer in church services. Cherished memories of their times together before...

"I guess I am sure. This whole situation is so confusing to me! Back home I knew who I was. Now I don't know. I feel like I've been cut loose from everything, and everyone I know. I need someone I can talk to. Until you came there wasn't anyone."

"This certainly isn't like home, is it?"

"No, no, it isn't! I miss Father and Mother. I miss our home, our way of life..." her lips trembled and tears spilled down her cheeks. "I'm sorry...I didn't intend to blubber," she pulled a snow white handkerchief from a pocket in her gown and dabbed at the unbidden tears. She looked quietly out the elegant window framed by the elegant lace Austrian blinds.

"Tonight we are to attend the theater," she heaved another sigh. "Don't be concerned, I'm not going to carry on again..." she sniffled and tried to control the sob that rose into her throat.

"We all have to have time to grieve. Time to adjust to loss."

"Oh, Gene, I needed that! That is...I needed to hear that. Even if..." Angela paused slightly, "Even if William and Edna Dorking weren't my real parents, they were my real family for all of the life I remember," she quietly sobbed into the pillow.

"Go ahead--have a good cry. You'll feel better, and think clearer afterwards," he handed her his clean ample hanky.

After a bit the tears and sobs came less and less. She wiped her eyes, "You're right, I did need that. How do men do it? They don't ever cry, but they still go on strong as ever! I don't believe I'll think any clearer though. There isn't anything to think."

"That's not true."

"What?"

"I've seen several men cry. Men do cry."

"I thought they always have to be strong."

"Men can laugh, why couldn't they cry? Tears don't show weakness. Men just cry about different things--and in different ways."

"Oh--I see. You never cry--"

"Of course I have...my father used to say he thought I'd never stop wanting my midnight feeding when I was a baby!"

"You--!"

He laughed as he reached out and grabbed the pillow she threw at him. "Now, now! Be careful--we don't want to break that graceful vase of flowers!" he tilted his head up and mimicked some of his English speaking friends.

"You know what I mean. You are always so invincible."

"No one, Angela, is ever invincible. Everyone has at least one weakness."

"I don't believe you. What is your weakness?" she sat back studying him.

"Well, really, I am pretty close to perfect," he laughed again and tossed the pillow back at her.

"No, really, what is your weakness?"

"Ah, ha! Delilah, for what purpose do you ask?"

"Oh, Gene! You are so perplexing!"

"We came here to talk about your problem, remember? Not about me--or even men in general," he said.

"That is so."

"A few weeks ago I had an unusual visitor at the farm. I was just finished with chores, and just before I finished preparing breakfast there was a knock on the door."

"Oh, were your Aunt and Uncle not there?"

"No, they had gone on a visit to Uncle Jed's step-mother. Just a short visit--and I was taking care of the farm...."

"That's so impressive. The young men here--many of them have quite an allowance--but they aren't trained in any area of life. None of them could do what you have done--but I'm sorry--who was your visitor?"

"It was Mr. Dorking. I'm not at liberty to disclose our conversation, but...have you had any word from them? Do you know how they are doing?"

"No, I have heard nothing," she sighed again and shook her head.

They both looked out the lattice window. The sunshine was playing peek-a-boo with the clouds. It was a peaceful scene that did not solace either party as they watched the shadows flit across the lawn.

"I will speak to Mr. Henrey..." Gene could not betray the message he had passed on, yet he was torn between loyalty to all three people. "If I hear any more from the Dorkings, I will pass it on through him. You may have to wait until you turn eighteen...I think legal age is eighteen," his thoughts wandered in all directions. "David and Bessie have moved as well."

"They have?! I feel like all are abandoning me!"

"Well, I'm here for a short time at least, and I'll keep you in touch as much as I can. I have their address, and I can see no reason why you wouldn't be allowed to correspond...maybe even visit them. They are living in Tennessee, so they aren't as far away as they were."

Angela's features went from drained, ashen white to rosy and full of hope. "Oh, do see if it will be possible! "I think I've missed them almost as much as Father and Mother! Are you going to the theater tonight?"

"No, I have a job interview in the morning, and I have other plans for tomorrow. I need to get a good night's sleep."

"I wish I didn't have to go either," she began to pull at the tassels on the fringe.

"Then why go?"

"I'm expected to go."

"Are you so sure? Walter doesn't enjoy attending these things either. At least so he says."

"So, he's going because...?"

"So he says."

"How queer! Both of us going because we think the other wants to go!" her laughter rang out. "Thank you," she said with a glimmer of her old playfulness. "Gene, I need prayers. No one around here is very religious. They only go to church because it's a status symbol."

"Many folks are like that. Maybe not the status symbol, but people go for different reasons--but going to church even for the wrong reason, is better than not going at all."

"Aren't they being hypocritical? That doesn't do any one any good...does it?"

"I asked David's step father that question once. His answer was that just like a little bit of salt will help flavor a piece of food, as long as they are hearing the word of God...God's principles will flavor their life, and in turn flavor our society. Once they totally turn from listening to God's principles...we're in for a bad time. That's what Alistair said...and I see what he's saying."

"I can see that," Angela hugged the pillow to herself as she contemplated on the thought. "I'll have to think on it, but it makes sense."

"We could have Bible study here on Sunday afternoons. I don't know that anyone except you and I would be interested, but that would be alright I guess," he said with a shrug.

"I think I would enjoy that."

"We'll plan on it then. I think I'll put this chair back now. Do you need to talk to Walter?" he lifted the chair again and easily put it back in its original spot.

"About Sunday?" she stood up and put the pillow in its place.

"No, about the theater."

"Yes, it's time to change streams, I think."

****************************************************
"Oh, Franklin, you are so-so clever!" Cathy snickered.

"Of course I am," he smiled agreeably.

"I think it's mean..."

"Oh, Trudy, lighten up! It's just a joke!" her twin sister chided.

"I still think it's mean. I don't think it will come to anything good! I warn you," Trudy pointed at her sister, Judy, "I warn you, nothing good will come of it."

"You can count me in," Cathy volunteered.

"Me too," Judy said.

"What about you, Jim? Jerry?" Franklin DeFoe asked.

"No, I have other things to do--" Jim declined the offer.

"I'm not interested. Sounds dry as dead leaves to me..." Jerry said.

"Besides," Jim waggled the ice in his glass..."We all know that Cathy is just miffed."

"Miffed?!" Cathy's green eyes blazed open wide. "What on earth do you mean?"

"You've been trying to get this new fellow to fall for your charms, and he's not taking the bait." Jim Wiggins laughed and took a drink.

"That greenie? I should say not! Why I could have had him wrapped around my finger..." her face flamed as the group laughed. "I could have!" she insisted.

"How about a wager?" Jerry Shore asked with a cunning look.

"Ladies don't wager," Cathy answered coolly.

"Okay...challenge then," he said smooth as velvet.

"I may be interested," she smiled.

"Cathy, you remind me of mother's Persian cat...except you're much prettier," Jim said as he admired her soft flawless features.

"Prettier, but more dangerous," Franklin added under his breath. "So, I'll let Walter know that I'll be there, as well as Judy and Cathy."

chapter 44 Mr. Barlow and Beyond

2011-08-05T22:30:00.000-05:00

"Gene Wade," Gene shook the man's extended hand, but with out much emphasis. "Yes, it was some send off..."

"Where you off to? I thought you were older...looked older back at the station. I'd say you couldn't be much over twenty...so, where you off to?" he repeated himself.

"Well, I'm heading to Chicago..."

"I see. I get off before that. A little stop just over the river...I bet you're glad to be out on your own. Kick up your heels a little bit now that you're away from home..." he said with a wink.

"I guess you could say that," Gene wished he could turn this guy off. He had some thoughts running in his mind, but he could not think because this fellow was like a non-stop gusher.

The man pulled out a gold cigarette case, "You want a cigarette?" he flipped it open.

"No, thank you, I don't smoke."

"Well, who's to know...you sure? I've heard it's good for your health..."

"No, I'm sure," he held up a hand in protest as visions of his Aunt venting her opinion of 'those stinking, dirty things!' ran through his mind.

"You don't mind if I smoke, do you?" he chose a cigarette, and not waiting for a reply tapped it on his case, stuck it between his lips and lit it with the matching gold lighter. He took a drag on the cigarette, then exhaled the smoke. "We've got a couple of hours before I get off...you play poker?"

"No, I've never played cards."

"Never played cards! Say, I can teach you. Let's start with..." he reached into the inside pocket of his suit and pulled out a deck of cards.

"That's alright. I don't want to learn."

"What? You know if you want to get on in the world you're going to need to..."

"Sir, would you please extinguish your cigarette...this is not a smoking car," the conductor punched Gene's ticket, and frowned as he waited for Mr. Barlow to squash out his cigarette. "Your ticket, please," he held out his hand for the ticket.

"It's right here!" Mr. Barlow handed it to him then stuck it back in his pocket when the conductor returned it. He glared after the man as he moved down the line of seats.

Gene winced at the curse words that came out of the man's mouth. "If you'll excuse me, I believe I'll change seats," he tried to appear genial. The sour look on Mr. Barlow's face spoke of ill will as Gene picked up his satchel and moved up two seats and across the aisle. Someone had left a newspaper on the seat...he picked it up and began to scan the columns.

Mr. Barlow's eyes roved over the few passengers then he moved up the aisle to sit beside a lone man. Soon the two were occupied in a game of cards. After a bit Mr. Barlow pulled out a flask and offered his new acquaintance a drink from it.

They were situated so that it was impossible for Gene to avoid overhearing the occasional outbursts. At first the single man seemed to be doing well in the game. With each nip at the flask he became over confident and rude. As his luck changed, his face grew flushed, and some of his words were angry...

With the continual motion of the train, and the fact that his aunt had tried to prepare every one of his favorite dishes for his send off celebration, he was feeling like a well-fed child being rocked to sleep. He folded the paper, and leaned his head against the window...clack, clack, clack, before he knew it he was napping.

Gene woke with a start. He looked at his pocket watch...he had slept soundly for a couple of hours. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, ran his hands through his hair, and stretched. Both of the card players were gone. The car was quiet. He reached for the newspaper beside him on the seat. He frowned as he picked up his ticket, and put it back in his inner coat pocket. He read for a time then headed for the latrine. With each stop along the way the train picked up more passengers.

"Is this seat taken?" An older man paused beside Gene.

"No, go right ahead..." Gene moved slightly in recognition.

"Thank you," the man lowered himself onto the seat.

Gene observed the man's well tailored, faded black suit. His quiet demeanor spoke of cultivated manners: he was the exact opposite of Mr. Barlow.

"Are you traveling far?" he asked.

"I'm heading to Chicago, then on to Richmond. How about yourself?"

"It's a small world! I also am going to Virginia," a smile tugged at his weathered face.

"Charles Armwel," he introduced himself. "I'm actually from Virginia, but was employed at Rock Island, Illinois. Now, I'm on my way back home..."

After they exchanged a few pleasantries, Gene went back to reading his newspaper and Mr. Armwel began reading on a pamphlet he retrieved from his inside pocket.

Gene yawned and pulled out his watch. "We still have six hours until we reach the La Salle Street exit...I think I'll finish my nap."

"Yes, the next few days will be long. I have a pullman reserved for the last evening, but not tonight. Too expensive after being out of work for a year."

"I had some money saved up, but not an unlimited amount...my Uncle told me, 'You're young...you can sleep on the train!' I'll be staying with a friend of mine while I work on getting my pilot's license, but I'm hoping to find a job and earn some money while I'm there...to defray the cost..."

"That should be lucrative employment. Flying is the wave of the future."

"You think so? I rather enjoy it anyway. Well, I'm going to catch a few winks at any rate..."

"I probably will as well in a bit...do you mind if I borrow your paper?" Mr. Armwel asked.

"You are quite welcome to it--it was here on the seat when I got here," Gene handed the paper to him.

"Thank you," Mr. Armwel opened the paper and began reading.

Gene rolled up his already folded coat to use as a pillow and leaned up against the window.

The sky was beginning to lighten outside his window when he next opened his eyes. His seat companion was nowhere to be seen in the car, but Mr. Armwel's belongings still remained in the seat.

Gene sat up and gazed out the window at the houses rushing by. He stood and began making his way toward the back of the car as Mr. Armel came out of the toilet room. "Good morning," they exchanged greetings. After using the restroom and briefly combing his hair he closed the door behind him and in spite of the lurching and swaying made his way back to the seat.

"We're almost to the station," Mr. Armwel smiled at him as they picked up their belongings. "I see you brought a satchel with you...good idea!"

"I didn't think I would ever say it again after the meal my aunt cooked before I left, but I'm hungry!" Gene laughed. Should be able to catch something for breakfast somewhere around the station..."

"We can get our luggage tagged, and moved, to the next train. Then we have about two hours till old number 10 comes in," Mr. Armwel smiled his warm smile.

"Looks like we'll have to wait for a porter..." Mr. Armwel said as they stood on the platform waiting as the handlers unloaded their belongings. "Doesn't look as if you've brought much with you."

"No, I don't need but one trunk, not like some people I've traveled with."

"Porter!" Mr. Armwel hailed a black man wearing a sharp red and gray uniform.

"Yes, sir! Where you off to?" he asked with a tip of his hat.

"We need these bags over to the B&O Chicago New York Express number ten heading for Washington, D.C."

"Sure nuff, sir...You need anything else just call on me," he finished stacking Mr. Armwel and Gene's luggage.

The uniformed man led the way to the correct platform pushing his cart at a fast clip through the terminal.

"You take care of these for us, now," Mr. Armwel dropped a tip in the man's hand. "Is there a good place to eat you can recommend?"

"Yes, sir! Thank you, and I certainly will!" the porter slipped the money into a pocket. "Most folks go to the Harvey House. Reasonable prices, good food, and lots of it!"

"Are you ready for breakfast now?" he turned to Gene.

"I sure am! My day is all out of kilter...I've overslept, now I'm underfed," he grinned. "Let's find that Harvey House so we can be ready when the next train arrives."

"Harvey Houses are known for their good service. There shouldn't be a problem, but we want to get our breakfast out of the way, just to be sure..."

"Ham and eggs for your sir...and sausage and eggs for you," the pretty young waitress, in her starched black uniform and white apron, wrote their order down and bustled off to the kitchen.

"Thank you, miss," Charles said as his cup of hot black coffee appeared. He spooned two teaspoons of sugar into his cup and poured cream in as well till the coffee was a warm brown color. "Cream? Sugar?" he offered to Gene.

"Thank you, don't mind if I do," Gene stirred about half as much sugar and cream into his coffee as Mr. Armwel had put into his. "Sure good coffee. Good to wake up to! My uncle makes coffee so strong you can chip the cup away and it will stand by itself..."

"You're pretty fond of your Aunt and Uncle aren't you?"

"Yes, sir, I sure am! I don't much care for traveling. I like the farm."

"Here comes our breakfast. I had heard they had good service!" he moved back as the waitress placed the plates of ham and eggs with hot buttered toast in front of him.

"And here is your sausage and eggs, sir," she placed Gene's in front of him.

"Miss, would you have a bit of jelly somewhere for this toast?" the older man's eyes twinkled up at the young woman.

"I will see what I can do, sir," she smiled back at him.

"That would be appreciated. Now, before we dig in, we need to remember our manners..." He bowed his head not waiting to see if Gene did as well, and began reciting, "Our Father in heaven, for what we are about to receive, we truly thank thee...In Jesus name, Amen."

They both lifted their heads as the waitress brought the jelly for their toast.

"Here you go!" she said placing it between them. "And are you ready for more coffee? More cream? I see you found the sugar," she said as she refilled the two cups.

"What sort of employment will you be looking for while in Richmond--while you try to obtain your pilot license?" Mr. Armwel leaned back slightly after the last of his food was finished. He brushed the few crumbs from his lapel, stirred the light brown coffee in his cup, and placed the spoon on his saucer.

"I have experience in several areas. I've worked for a number of businesses at home. Errand boy, bell boy at the hotel, I even helped at the newspaper office...but it will only be for a short spell...while I get my license. My aunt and uncle need me to help with the farm, and I'm not sure how I'll be able to work things out..."

"You look like an entrepreneur--an up and coming young man. Let me give you my name and address," he took a book of blank paper out of his vest pocket and began writing. "If you're really interested in work...I may be able to help."

"Thank you, sir," Gene spoke gratefully. He took the paper the man handed across to him and read over the name and address noticing the neat precise handwriting.

"So many young boys--well they believe themselves to be men..." Charles Armwel frowned in thought. "I digress, many young lads of today are mindless nincompoops! If you've half as much brain as you appear to have...I suppose it is time to be finishing up here," he pulled his wallet out of his inside suit coat pocket.

Gene also reached into his inside pocket for his traveling money. He pulled out his train ticket, but where was his money? Something in the back of his mind clicked as he remembered picking up his train ticket off the seat...

If I Should Die Before I Wake...

2011-06-25T15:29:00.013-05:00

How did I get here? I have many times wondered how things come about. I may be looking through pictures and wonder, 'what happened to that dish that I had, that dress that I was wearing (in the picture), and sometimes I wonder--what happened to that person that I used to be?

'Life makes cowards of us all.' One of my unfamous quotes. I question why...why didn't I speak up, shut up, or stand up? There are many times when one of those things would have been appropriate, but I did something different to my shame, and --at times--to my horror.

The questionnaire asked, "What are your goals in life?" Answer? I want to follow God and be the 'best' Christian I can be... I look backward and realize I have failed. I have failed in many cases to finish the things I wanted, and in some cases, needed to do. I have dropped my cross many times. It became heavy and I just dropped it. Maybe I took on too much (didn't Jesus say my burden is light?), or I lacked faith (Jesus did say 'if ye have faith the size of a mustard seed'). I do not know what the cause, I'm sure Jesus knows, but I've failed.

Doing the right thing...If I had the money I would--give to missionaries, help struggling family members to make ends meet, start a good work, in short do good things, but...doing the right thing isn't about money.

Doing the right thing is, well, about doing the right thing. It's about being alive to those around you. About being alive to those to whom you have a duty to. But foremost, it's about doing what the will of God is.

There are many 'needy' in the world today. However, I can't meet everyone's needs. I can not wave my magic wand (yes, I've tried that too) and have everything 'come out right'. I must discern who--and how--God wants me to help.

God first. I must put God and spiritual things first. I must pray and study and order my life around God and his will. After God, I have a duty to my family, to my friends, and to my neighbors...in that order. That is why in my article "Busyness", I wrote about the necessity of doing our own 'job' and not what someone else should be doing. It is not my duty to clean your house, raise your children, or even teach your children the Bible. And if I take over someone's job/duty that is not mine, I fail to let you succeed in your task--and ultimately--I will fail in my task. I will not be there for those whom it is my duty to be there for--because I will, erroneously, be trying to do your task.

When I was growing up we always seemed to be ahead of our time. For instance, it was rumored that my aunt had a beauticians license. Whether she did or not...she was deemed to be qualified to 'give us permanents'. For those who don't know, she would buy one of the boxed home permanents, and proceed to 'curl' our hair. And curl she did...smile. I remember getting my hair permed--usually in the fall. In May when the weather turned hot during the last days of school--my head would sweat--and stink just like the permanent I had received seven or eight months earlier. I had an 'afro' long before it became popular in the '70's! There was having a 'single' mother and being a 'latch key kid' before the term was ever coined...before it became popular. And working summers to earn money for school...not having a father, and having an alcoholic mother...
Looking around at my children's generation, the generation of the ones with metal protruding from their faces and bodies. Many of which are on alcohol and drugs...I wonder what ever happened to morals? But even more frightening, because our family was so far ahead of our generation--that's where my children would have been. My sister and I should have had metal protruding from our faces and bodies, and tattoos, and...my children would have been the abused children. However, Jesus and God made a difference in My life--and my children's lives, but...
Why only for a short while? Some people point and say it's because of a lack in something we the parents did, or did not do. We failed to teach, we failed, some say and in some way it's the whole, 'generation that knoweth not God,' syndrome. However, God made a difference in my life, and has meant so much for my children's lives, why has it not been passed on to and through them. He will mean even less to their children. The difference between choosing heaven or hell. A good life with good choices or something much less.

Relative religion. "You're okay, I'm okay. We're all going to heaven only taking different routes." It is sad to see people we love pass into eternity unprepared, but --should we fail to teach our own? fail to guide our own? even fail to prepare our self-- because others we love are unprepared? We aren't 'okay' just because we want to believe we are...don't you believe it!

Too many times I thought I knew what needed to be done--it looked so obvious! But, I have failed--because I have failed to pray, and failed to pray, and failed to pray...
I allowed myself to get caught up in busyness and did not discern the real need. The real need was--and still is--to stop allowing Satan to dictate what we should, and need, to be doing. Stop allowing him to dictate what our 'task' is. We need to turn to God, and follow Him.

What is the purpose here? The purpose is to call on others to realize what they are doing, and change. The purpose is also to share a few insights. Insights such as:

Reject cliche's. (Not everyone is doing it. Not all children will rebel. Letting children be children only goes so far...[note here,parents should still dictate the rules]...these are only a few cliche's) Pushing children into the gutter so they can be a 'good example' to their peers/society is not a good idea. Give them what they need. Too many times I have heard-- I didn't have anything when we were growing up and I don't want that for my children! However, giving children too much causes them to be lazy and unthankful. Give them the right things...give them love, discipline, commitment, and work. Teach them thankfulness. Point out the numerous blessings they, and you have each day. Teach them to take responsibility. When things go wrong-- what is their part in it?...sometimes it isn't their fault, but if it is, don't sluff it off on someone else. I did it; I made a mistake...almost as hard to say as I'm sorry, I was wrong!

Who are you? how did you get where you are? More important, where are you going? Take a stand, change your course, and make a difference for Christ.

chapter 43

2011-06-12T22:53:00.002-05:00

"Well, I'd better be getting out to help with chores...he'll have them cows all milked otherwise," Jed picked up his cup and drained its contents. "I wish I had more answers, Peaches...or at least better answers," he carried the cup over to the sink.

"So do I," Agnes sighed and began sorting and stacking dishes. Frowning, she took the kettle over and pumped water from the cistern into it then set it on the stove to heat.
"We had such a late tea--I think I'll just heat up some vegetable soup from the jars, and we can have the left over sandwiches with that...along with the cake. That be all right, Jed?"

"That'll be just fine," he said sticking his head back into the kitchen. "I think we should invite the Pickerells over Friday night. We haven't had a night together for awhile."

"That would be so nice!" Agnes' face brightened. "Jed," she walked over to where he stood half in and half out of the door.

"Yes, darlin'?" he smiled down at her.

"Have I told you in the last...oh, let's say half a minute...how wonderful you are?" she buttoned his old patched chore coat for him and smiled up into his handsome face. "You know, I was right all along."

"Oh? And just what were you right all along about?"

"You are the most handsome man I have ever known...or could ever know."

"Peaches, you are plumb hoodwinked...but that's alright by me!"

"No, that's the truth! I'll call Bessy right away, and find out if they have plans. Now, get out there and get busy on those chores, you handsome man!"

"Yes, ma'am!" smiling, he stepped back out the door.
*********************

"What do you think is going on then?" Jed pushed back a ways from the table as Agnes began clearing the food and dishes away.

"Some folks are saying it's the end of the world, but then people have been claiming that almost every year," David also sat back. "To tell you the truth--I don't know what to think," he handed Bessy his plate.

"You know what folks said when Earhart disappeared. Now there are rumors, and rumblings coming from Europe... We have a new game..." Jed walked over to the closet where the games were kept and opened the door. "Gene," he called. "Gene, I think it's time to get out that new game...you want to come help us learn this game?"

Gene thumped down the stairs, a book tucked under his arm. "What is it?"

"Are you going to come help us with this game?" Jed repeated.

"I don't want to be an odd man out..." he hesitated. "What's the game?"

"You don't play partners in this one...it's--Monoplier--" Jed winked at Gene.

"Jed! You know it's Monopoly!"

"Well, yes it is, Peaches! Just giving your Aunt a ribbing..." he whispered.

"Some things don't change, do they Gene?" David helped arrange the chairs as Bessy patted the table dry. "I've played Monopoly a couple of times since it's come out."

"Good--we've never played, and it looks complicated--" Jed began laying the board out.

"Not really hard, just long. Probably a good idea to set a time limit...we don't want to stay all night..."

*******************************

David looked at the clock, "I think this will be a good time to end...it's nine o'clock. By the time we get the game put away..."

"And have another cup of coffee and a little piece of dessert!" Agnes insisted. "Your babies certainly are good," she said picking up the dice.

"We don't usually go visiting, and the baby isn't always this quiet. Must be a start of something good," Bessy said with a hopeful glance toward the parlor where the baby slept peacefully.

"Ha! Ha! who would have thought! Bessie, you won the game...look--you have the most property and the most money!" Jed pointed to Bessie's stash.

"Well, I just bought what I landed on," she answered indignantly.

"That's that," Jed finished putting the pieces into the box and replaced the lid. "Agnes, do you have the pie ready?"

"She sure does!" Gene brought in a tray with warm cinnamony, apple smells wafting from its contents. He set off the plates of pie, while Bessie brought in the coffee pot and cups. Agnes brought in a pitcher of cream and the crystal sugar bowl.

"What I think is this--Chamberlain and Petain have played footsie with this guy, Hitler. He doesn't think they'll call him on what he's doing..."

"Will they? What do you think? And what will that mean for us?"

"I think they'll have to...I don't think he'll stop. He's a bully. Just look at how he got where he is. Those 'brown shirts', as they call them."

"Yeah, kind of reminds me of back in the twenties when we were hearing about the gangsters in Chicago," Jed said.

"Oh, Jed! That's terrible!"

"We hear worse than that..." David toyed with his fork.

"I'd just as soon not!" Bessie's mouth was set in a tight line.

"I know, I know," he held up his hand. "I don't think it will involve us. Our policy since the last end all war is we want to stay out of it."

"I don't think it should involve us--why should our young men have to...!" Agnes stopped as the color rose to her cheeks.

"If we man the factories and help supply their armies with food...I think that should be enough. Shouldn't it, David?" Bessie asked.

"After England and France have dallied and dawdled around...France is counting on their defenses holding. All they have to do is pull back behind the Maginot line and be ready."

Gene held out his plate, and, with a smile, his Aunt scooped another large serving onto it.

"Thank you...you make the very best pie!" he said as she handed him the cream pitcher.

Agnes only half listened to Jed and David discuss local news and the happenings in Europe. Out of the corner of her vision she watched as Gene ate a sugary bite of apple covered with flaky crust. She watched as he savored that bite while he scooped up the next one. How many times she had marveled that he never took things for granted. Such a thoughtful, thankful person for one so young. She wondered if he realized how much this conversation had to do with him, and she shuddered. Agnes took a bite of her pie to keep her mouth from crying out: "He's too young! He's only sixteen!" As she chewed slowly she remembered the scrawny ten year old, scared and scarred from his difficult childhood. She reflected on the years since the death of both of his parents, his coming to live here in this quiet Midwest town, and the many changes life had wrought in his...and her...life.

Oh, my God, she prayed, please take care of him...we love him so! Her thoughts continued as the loved ones from her past marched through her mind. The ones who had left for the last war and never came back. Most were so young when they left; the ones who had come home were old, with a haunted look in their eyes.

"I don't know why if there is so much hunger...why has the government come in and killed them pigs..." she heard Jed exclaim then went back to her reverie.

Here was her beloved son. Adopted, yes, but he couldn't be more her own son if he had been part of her body. Agnes remembered the day a few months ago when Jed explained the process of shaving. Their boy was growing up...and now these horrible rumors. Suddenly her attention was yanked back to the adult conversation.

"And ye shall hear of wars and rumors of wars; see that ye be not troubled: for these things must needs come to pass; but the end is not yet..." she heard David say.

"What are you saying?" she turned to their guest.

"I'm saying that just as our Lord predicted these so called 'signs' have been happening since shortly after his ascension into heaven."

"So are you saying that the second coming will come soon?"

"No," he shook his head. "No, what I'm saying is this, 'Take ye heed, watch and pray: for ye know not when the time is. It is as when a man, sojourning in another country, having left his house, and given authority to his servants, to each one his work, commanded also the porter to watch. Watch therefore: for ye know not when the lord of the house cometh, whether at even, or at midnight, or at cockcrowing, or in the morning; lest coming suddenly he find you sleeping. And what I say unto you I say unto all, Watch.' We find this in Mark 13:33-37--it says 'No man knows the time', and it also warns us to 'watch and pray'."

"I don't know," Jed pulled at his lower lip. "There's so much trouble in the world. So much..." he hesitated searching for the right word.

"Wickedness," Bessie supplied.

"Travail?" Agnes added.

"It's like the creation is being pulled--maybe torn--in so many directions."

"Like taffy at a taffy pull," David said.

"Yes. It's as if evil is pulling our lives--all of us--in every such direction," Jed agreed slowly. "We aren't really being pulled by--good--in any direction."

"I think that God IS our Rock. God IS our anchor that keeps us from being torn to pieces. If we hold to him, and keep him as our pole star that is our only hope as Satan pummels this world," David agreed. "Otherwise, all is lost."
********************************

Changes, changes! Gene thought a few weeks later as he went about the morning chores. The weather had turned cold. There was snow on the ground, but not like there had been a year ago. He opened the gate and the cows filed out into the lot, then he waded through the half frozen mud, to push open the north pasture gate.

Gene shivered as the cold wind blew over the winter landscape. It was not a day for lingering outside. He quickened his step to the next stop--the farrowing house. Uncle Jed had not kept many hogs. He had a few sows, and fattened a few pigs on slop, skimmed milk and home raised grain. Hog prices were so low, his uncle had only a few for himself, and for bartering. He checked the sows and their piglets then stopped only long enough to wipe his nose across his cotton chore glove before opening the door. The wind stung his eyes when he stepped out and closed the door behind him. He pulled his cap down firmly, and pushed his way against the wind toward the back porch.

It was demanding work with Uncle Jed gone, but there was a satisfaction that came with working the land and caring for the animals. There was a natural rhythm to it. On the back porch, he slipped his boots off and hung his hat and old chore coat on the hooks. Reaching up and lifting a ham from the hook, he carried it through the pantry and wash room, into the kitchen.

Gene sliced several cold boiled potatoes into a skillet of grease to fry, cut several slices from the ham and threw them into the same hot skillet. Now all he had to do was slide his pan of biscuits into the hot oven. He opened the keeper and took the butter and jam out. He frowned as a knock sounded at the front door. Just who could that be? He muttered as the knock came again.

"Coming!" he called out and placed the jam and butter on the table.

"Come in...Come in!" Gene held the door wide as the wind swirled around the well-wrapped figure at the door.

"Thank you, thank you. It's rather blustery out there today!" The man exclaimed as he pulled the scarf from around his face and stepped inside.

"What brings you out here, Mr. Dorking...I haven't seen you for quite sometime!" Gene was astonished. "My Uncle isn't home right now--I persuaded him to take Aunt Agnes and baby Nissa on a trip to visit his step-mother--"

"It wasn't your Uncle Jed that I came to speak to--"

"Can I offer you a cup of coffee? I was just fixing up some breakfast...how about a bite of something?"

"Don't let me interrupt your breakfast," Mr. Dorking held up his hands in protest.

"It's no problem...let me take your hat and coat...just wipe your shoes on the rug there, and follow me.

"Some coffee will be fine," he said as he followed Gene's directions. "I've never been out this far into the country...You have a very nice place here."

"Thank you. Aunt and Uncle have been here about sixteen years, I think. If you don't mind we can sit here in the kitchen...that's where I usually eat when I'm bachelor-ing," Gene led the way to the kitchen.

"That will be fine. So, do they rent here, or are they buying this farm?" Mr. Dorking sat down on the sturdy wooden chair that his host indicated for him. "This is quite a pleasant house," he said looking around the kitchen. A black wrought iron plant stand containing flourishing red geraniums sat in a place of honor to one side of a large, many paned window which was adorned by lacy white curtains. The sturdy wooden kitchen table sat next to the geraniums, looking out on the porch and further out to the farm lane. There were floor to ceiling cherry wood cabinets all along the north side of the kitchen, a deep double sink was positioned in front of a window. The door at the far end of the kitchen exited to the pantry which contained the sink, cistern pump, and wash basin. A large well polished cook stove dominated the south wall next to the door to the upstairs, and the remainder of the south wall was covered with necessary items for cooking; pots, pans, colanders, large spoons and spatulas. Back toward the kitchen and living room door hung a large calendar, and a rack covered in colorful, clean, starched aprons.

Gene poured his guest a cup of coffee and set it in front of him on the kitchen table. "Help yourself there to the sugar...I'll get the cream--" he went off in search of the cream pitcher. "Uncle Jed bought it...he owned it before he got married. He's added some land to it since, but the original eighty he owned before," he said as he brought the pitcher of cream to the table. "I have enough ham and potatoes fried up...the biscuits are baked, and there's some strawberry jam."

"No, no, I don't usually eat much for mornings, but I wouldn't mind a biscuit--it has been quite some time since I've had homemade strawberry jam. Your Uncle is quite lucky then to own...and not to have lost...his farm..." he looked at the enticing biscuits steaming and hot, nestled in the bread basket.

Mr. Dorking waited quietly as Gene offered a brief prayer.

"Uncle Jed doesn't believe much in what most folks call 'luck'," Gene passed the butter dish and the jam. "His father passed away and left his boys with an inheritance--some of them used their portion wisely, and some didn't. And Uncle Jed has never been one to waste anything. When some of the other farmers were buying bigger machinery, trying to expand, Uncle continued to use what he had, and weigh carefully what he bought. He's never been one to go into debt. He says that's based on scriptures."

"That's so, it is scriptural..." Mr. Dorking set to stirring his coffee. "How long will your Aunt and Uncle be away?"

"They start home a week from Friday," Gene squinted at the dates on the calendar sporting picture of the large Rhode Island Red Rooster.

"They'll be home just before the Pickerells leave...it will be different without them here, won't it?"

"Yes, it will. We will miss them." Gene munched on his biscuit as he wondered what this was leading to. No doubt about it, Mr. Dorking had aged over the summer before the news that Angela was not the Dorkings' natural daughter had exploded like a bomb in Littleton. Now, since becoming the center of gossip his hair had turned completely white.

"What I have to speak to you about won't take long...Mrs. Dorking and I," here the man paused.

Gene waited, also stirring his coffee. "Would you like a refill?" he offered.

"Certainly...yes, I..." Mr. Dorking said self-consciously.

Gene warmed up both cups of coffee and put the pot back on the stove. It struck him as odd to be sitting down in his Uncle and Aunt's kitchen across from his former teacher and coach. Mr. Dorking had often left the impression he was slightly above his Littleton acquaintances in society, and indeed, he still carried himself with an air of style. His polished shoes, his dress slacks, white shirt, tie, and tweed suit coat gave him a casual elegance, but there was a difference in some way.

"My sister and I grew up in--modest circumstances. We came from the poor side of a well off New England family. Not well off like the Henrey family of course. They came from the upper crust on both sides of the pond. Edna and I both went to school and bettered ourselves--moved up in society, and..." he sat in thought for awhile.

Gene ran the information through his mind. So this was what the adults only whispered about.

"Edna was the one who found the poor mother. She had become a casual acquaintance with the mother only the day before. About ten o'clock in the morning Walter knocked on the door to our apartment--which was right next to theirs--his baby sister was crying, and he couldn't 'awake his mummy', he said. The judge assumed we, Edna and I, were husband and wife. We would have taken both the children--never did figure out why the court split them up. Edna has never longed to marry, she had the little girl she wanted, the money and prestige...that was enough for her. We lived well enough for a time, and things went smoothly--until I met someone. Then our charade fell apart piece by piece. I married my someone, but...it didn't work well as you may imagine," he sighed. "I don't know why I'm telling all of this to you...by rights I shouldn't be burdening a young kid with this. It's only that I will be moving. After all of these years I'm going to have my own home, my own wife, and make a life of my own."

"But?"

"Yes, that is the question. What about Edna. I know it may not have appeared that Edna loved Angela...I think even Edna lost sight. She played the part so well that she became Angela's mother in her own mind. And now what will become of her? I know you are still in contact with Walter and Angela. I guess I was hoping you could speak to Mr. Henrey. I have two letters," he drew them from an inside pocket. "One is for Mr. Henrey, and the other for Angela. Both are from me--Edna doesn't know. My sister is a broken woman. She has no one to turn to. I will of course help her, but...?" he shrugged and let the question dangle.

"In a few weeks...at the first of the year I am to go for a visit...Walter has asked me to join him...I will take your letters along with me. I can't guarantee anything. I will give them both to Mr. Henrey, he will be in charge of anything else. If that is acceptable to you--?"

"Yes. I am not asking you to sneak, or do anything dishonest. Just deliver them for me," he handed two thin envelopes across the table to Gene. "Thank you so much..." he stood up and offered his hand. "Young man, I want you to know that I've admired your pluck and courage."

Gene stood and grasped the offered hand. "Thank you, sir. I'm not sure what you mean by pluck and courage, but I appreciate the thought."

"You and Lonnie were my best players on the team. Even in tough situations neither of you backed down, but Gene--in some way--you stood for something. Angela was an excellent judge of character, and she thought you were the best."

"That means a lot to me."

Gene watched out the kitchen window as Mr. Dorking drove down the lane. "How do I top that!" he spoke out loud. "I guess I'd better put these upstairs in my desk then try to finish my breakfast..."

"Changes! Changes!" Agnes exclaimed a few weeks later as she helped wrap and pack away Bessy's good dishes. "I am going to miss you so much!" she stopped and dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose.

"There, there now! Don't start that. We'll both be crying if you do...You'll come to see us...and soon! Maybe in April..."

"I don't know. Gene has kept the farm while we went visiting, but since he's leaving...probably won't be back for six months...or more..." Agnes began to sob.

Bessy reached over and patted Agnes' arm. "That's the way things happen--but, God willing, he'll be back," Bessy dabbed at her own eyes as the tears trickled down her cheeks.

"Beyond this land of parting...I'm going to miss you and this is going to make it so much harder!" Agnes blew her nose.

"There is a new man coming to fill in the preaching. I know it doesn't take our place--quite--but the changing scenery should keep you busy."

"Yes, the scenery is changing. Your mother is coming to help after lunch?"

"Father has been a little puny this last winter. That makes it difficult to leave at this time..."

"Your youngest brother and his new wife will be taking over the farm?"

"Jim will be moving out to the farm Father and Mother bought two years ago, Avil will be moving onto the homestead, and we aren't sure where Father and Mother will be. They have talked of moving into town, but they are such farm fixtures."

"It all comes out in the wash," Agnes tried to smile through her tears.

"Yes, we will leave it in God's hands."

"I'm finished here...are you going to come see Gene off on the train tomorrow?" Agnes sighed as she finished wrapping the sugar bowl and stood up.

"Yes. We wouldn't miss it for anything! Good friends are so dear. Thank you for helping."

Agnes felt jumpy and the snow pelting on the station roof did not help her mood as she sat nervously waiting.

"Richmond, Virginia, please," Gene said as he pushed his money toward the station master, and the man slid his ticket back at him. He checked his baggage and watched as the porter stowed his trunks.

"You have everything you need?" Jed asked.

"Seem to. Here's my schedule. I should get into Chicago about 7:15 in the morning...there should be enough time between trains for me to find someplace for breakfast. Train number ten leaves Chicago-- supposed to any way...here at 10:15," he pointed. "I arrive in Washington the following morning, and Richmond that same evening."

Nissa's black patent leather shoes tapped on the board floor as she ran to Gene and threw her arms around his knees.

"I wuv oo! I miss oo!"

He stooped and picked her up, "But, Nissa, honey...I'm not even gone yet!"

"Still do!" she insisted.

"How can you be so calm. I'm a nervous wreck!" Agnes followed close behind Nissa. "I miss you too...and I know you're not gone yet!"

"Don't fret now, Aunt!" he enveloped her in a warm hug. "Don't fret. I'll be back soon enough."

"I know. We have to trust God, but like Shakespeare wrote--Good night, good night, till it be morrow; parting is such sweet sorrow. Except you can toss out the sweet part!"

"Now, Agnes, don't burden the boy," Jed admonished.

"I'm not burdening him. Just letting him know he's loved and we'll miss him," she dabbed at her tears. "You do have money for your food don't you? Will you be warm enough?"

"Yes, everything's in order. I'll have to say good bye to you double," he turned to David and grasped his hand. "You folks will be gone by the time I get back, but I have your mother's address. I'll try to drop you a line when I arrive at Walter's. You do have the Henrey's address too, don't you?"

"We'll wait for your communication before we send anything," David returned Gene's firm hand shake momentarily. "You know...these last six years, you've been closer to me than...you've been just like a brother! I love you too, and I'll miss your...your friendship, your companionship...I'll just miss you!" he threw his arms around the young man.

"While you're at it I'll take one of those!" Bessie smiled up at the two brothers in the faith.

"When did you suddenly grow so small?" Gene said looking down at her realizing his former teacher had shrunk.

"Let us bow for a prayer," David said as the group of well wishers gathered closer.

"and brother Frank if you would lead us in a hymn or two..."

The train whistle blew as the last notes of the song, "God Be With You," died away.

"Good bye! Come home soon! Take care..." they all waved and called out.

"Good bye! I will!" Gene gave last minute hugs, waved and mounted the steps. "Good bye!"

He opened the compartment door, found a seat, and slid in close to the window to wave one final time as the train began to move slowly at first then gained speed.

The compartment door opened and a rotund man in a neat suit carrying a suit case sat down in front of Gene.

"Whew!" he exclaimed. "Just barely made it in time! That was some send off. Where you off to? The name's Jerry Barlow," he turned and extended his hand.

42 Into the Frying Pan--

2011-04-01T21:02:00.001-05:00

The autumn sunshine peeked through almost bare branches. Something of the place and the atmosphere reminded Eunice Henrey of a time long past. "What lovely table linens!" she examined the intricate lace pattern on the monogrammed napkin through her eyeglass. "Your table settings are so rare! She settled back in the comfortable parlor chair.

"Thank you. Jed's Grandmother and I worked on them together...it's a pattern handed down in his family." As she sat across from the stylish Mrs. Henrey, Agnes said a prayer of thankfulness. Her mother, Maureen Chadbrooke, had drilled etiquette into her five daughters until it was second nature.

"This has been a very pleasant day. Mr. Henrey is so happy when he can tour farms, yards, gardens, and orchards," Mrs. Henrey picked up her delicate tea cup and sipped the last of her tea. "You make excellent tea. It's a lost art in this country," she said with a wistful sigh.

"The tea service was my mother's--the china is from my father's family. Would you care for another cookie? A piece of cake?" Agnes offered and held the plate for her company.

"Well," the woman hesitated, "the tea biscuits are delicious. I am watching my figure, but...I believe I will, thank you."

"I'm sure you have nothing to worry about your figure, and that dress is a striking hue. It goes well with your coloring," Agnes said as she served the confections and poured tea for her guest. "You have such pretty hands!" Agnes took note of the soft hands with several jeweled rings, and manicured nails. "Help your self to the sugar and lemon--and there is cream if you would care for some?"

"Thank you, my dear. You are so kind," Eunice said as she spooned a healthy helping of sugar into her tea. "Delicious!" she said as she took a bite of cake. "Perfectly delicious!" she closed her eyes relishing the tangy lemon flavor.

"We have enjoyed your son's visit, he has acted the perfect guest, and Gene has enjoyed his company." Agnes stopped to take a bite of the sugared cookie. "From here where will you be off to?"

"Walter and Mr. Henrey like to go on fishing trips, and live out under the stars." she said with a nod. "They enjoy living in different circumstances...we didn't want to spoil Walter. Some people do that to their children. It isn't good for them. "Walter, you know is our adopted son," she took a sip of tea.

Agnes gasped, her eyes growing large. "I'm sorry," she covered her mouth with her napkin, "but it came as a surprise to me. No, Walter never mentioned anything..." she put her cookie down on her plate and took a sip of tea. "Gene is our adopted son. He was Jed's brother's son, but both of his parents passed away."

"That's what I understood. In our case the mother was found dead from -what was deemed- natural causes, but there was no name, nothing to identify her family, nothing. She was not a poor woman--there was a small fortune, and some fine jewelry that she left her two children. The judge awarded us the boy, but the other child was given to another family. My husband has taken care of the children's fortune for them."

"How sad they would split up the children! Do you know where the other child is? I suppose--"

"We have searched for any clue for the children's family for all of these years."

"And never found anything?"

"Not a thing. That is--nothing, until just a few months ago when we were at the world's fair in Paris. We were at an informal luncheon given by, Nellie, Lord Hughes' sister, one afternoon. Walter happened to wear the cuff links left to him in his mother's jewelry collection on that occasion. Count Bouchette became quite animated when Lord Hughes introduced us to him. My French isn't as respectable as my husband's, it was hard for me to follow exactly..."

"How very exciting! You had found a clue at last?"

"Not just a clue, but a perfect match. The young woman was Count Philip's sister. You see, the links had their family crest on them. They were unmistakable."

"I suppose now you will need to find the other child...and what does this mean to Walter? This has to be a bitter-sweet happening for you and your husband?"

Mrs. Henrey began to cry quietly. "Forgive me, but yes, bitter-- yet sweet. That is quite the description. I don't know what the future holds now," she blew her nose softly. "We had plans for Walter to take over certain aspects of our business...but now?" She dabbed at her eyes. "We have two other children," she hesitated then confided, "the one son lives in Europe. He has made his fortune, and has little time for anyone but his close friends. Our daughter lives in the United States. Not far from where we live, but she- she has taken religious vows. We haven't seen her for several years now."

"How very sad!" there was only air in Agnes' mind, words seemed to escape her.

The older woman held a locket toward Agnes, "Here. This is a picture of the children's mother..."

Agnes opened the locket and gasped, "Oh!" her hands trembled. "What a lovely, lovely woman! She looks so much like...!"

"Yes, she looks so much like an angel...it is as you've said, a bitter-sweet moment. At last the mystery has come to an end. The children can know who their mother was, and who their family is. For the two families that have loved and raised them, we now must part with them. I don't know how?" She shrugged her elegantly dressed shoulders, and dabbed at her eyes with a dainty pocket kerchief.

"Yes," Agnes said with a nostalgic sigh. "Yes, saying good bye comes to all of us who love. It is so much part of life, but it isn't ever easy. I'm sure that Walter will always honor you and your husband."

"Yes, we have been quite close to Walter. He has been an easy child to love and have around."

"Gene has also. How different our life was before...and I don't know what we would have done without him."

"I'm comfortable--here with you, Agnes," Mrs. Henrey reached her velvet soft hand toward Agnes and caressed her hand. "Some people wouldn't understand, but I feel welcome here. It's as if I've come home. I feel like you do understand."

"I do. First, we buried Gene's father, and a few weeks later we had to lay his mother to rest," Agnes covered her guest's soft hand with her own. "Gene was just a scrawny youngster. He reminded me of a stray kitten, all eyes, hungry, scared...we've come to love him as our own child..."

The two women sat absorbed with drinking their tea and thinking their private thoughts for a time.

"Many people I know are so busy trying to be what they aren't...you strike me as a jewel set in rough surroundings."

"Thank you. --Oh! I hear the men coming in--I had better replenish the tray...if you'll excuse me, I'll be right back."

"Why certainly! You just do what you need to do--" Mrs. Henrey settled back in her comfortable chair, perusing the room. It was a cozy, comfortable parlor that doubled as a library. There were several stuffed chairs scattered about the room, an ornate love seat in a deep rose color with mahogany finish, and matching end tables. The crackle of a small fire burning in the parlor stove--just enough to take the autumn chill out of the room--added a quaint charm.

Ever the curious person, always interested in the lives of others, the library of books stood in rows on the shelves beckoning to Eunice. The small portraits and nick knacks teased at her as well.

"Do you mind if I wander around your parlor, my dear?" She asked as Agnes came bustling back with another tray of goodies. "I have always loved books and reading, and there are so many inviting avenues here. And after all the sitting I have been doing today..."

"Oh, no. I don't mind at all," Agnes placed the tray on the table by the french windows. "I'll just replenish the hot water in the tea service, and all will be ready. If you would hostess the men as they come in I would appreciate it?" Agnes said at the sound of the pump at the sink working up and down, as well as water being poured from the hot tea kettle into the washbasin. The men's voices wafted in as they washed at the basin after the tour.

"Certainly, that will be no problem," the older woman rose, regally, walking slowly around the room.

The gay floral wall paper was a graceful background to several family portraits that were arranged on the wall.

"Your pictures are very interesting!" She glided back to help serve the tea as Jed and her husband came in and were seated.

"Thank you," Jed took his cup and chose several pastries from the plate.

"When you have the time, would you tell me about them?" Mrs. Henrey asked. "I enjoy genealogy, and family history. It's a hobby of mine," she explained with a smile.

"If you are interested--" Jed left his cup and tea cakes..."this is my Grandmother and Grandfather, Ruth and Joseph Wade," he pointed to a picture of a young bride in a high necked lace gown, her dark hair pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, covered with a lace cap, and a few tendrils at the sides of her childlike face. At her side stood a much taller handsome man in his dark suit and tie.

"She looks so young! And he is very good looking!"

"She was seventeen--but many girls were married at sixteen...Grandfather was twenty-five. This picture," he pointed to one on the right side of the first picture, "is Agnes' mother and father."

"How elegant they are!" Mrs. Henrey scrutinized each picture with her eyeglass. "She looks just like a Gibson girl--what a lavish gown...and how dashing her husband is!"

"This is my father and mother," he continued.

"Oh, how dainty your mother is!" She said generously, looking minutely at the rather plain woman in the picture.

"After my Grandfather passed away, father became the head of the family. He took care of his mother and two brothers. He was thirty years old before he felt free to marry."

"That is as it should be."

"These last two frames, one is of my brothers and I, and this one is of Agnes and her sisters."

"Very nice, very nice!" Mrs. Henrey exclaimed. "And who is in this small portrait over here?" she moved to a few small portraits in frames in front of the shelves of books.

"My mother passed away leaving father with us small boys. He remarried--this is he and our step-mother...then this is we boys and our step-sister."

"Did I over hear Lord Hughes telling Gene that his Aunt...would that be your step-sister? was visiting the Queen this summer?"

"Yes, that was my step-sister, Bertha Louise. Ever since my step-sister's wedding my step-mother has wanted Agnes and I to come back for a visit. We've been so busy, but Gene is going to take care of things for us for two weeks after the fall work is done."

"That will be so nice."

"Now, Eunice...Mr. Wade's tea will be completely cold. You must let him come back and finish!" Mr. Henrey winked at Agnes as she and Nissa joined the company.

"I didn't mean to keep you so long," Eunice apologized to Jed. "Mr. Henrey, we haven't left you--he's just lonely," she whispered to Jed. "And there are the boys coming back from their saying goodbye--" she glanced out the windows just in time to see the boys jogging their horses down the drive toward the barns.

"What fine animals!" Mr. Henrey jumped up, his cane tapping across the floor to the window. "I say, those are fine looking animals...if we weren't so comfortable in here I'd have to go examine those horses. There's nothing quite like a well made horse!"

"Too bad you don't have time to go look over Mr. Goodnite's horses. Gene's been helping train our neighbor's horses. They sell pretty quick, I can tell you."

"No time for a side visit-- Walter, Eunice, and I are on our way back to the east coast. We'll be there for awhile. The Count will come to make arrangements.

The older man stood quiet, looking out the window, but not seeing the scenery before him. He had grown so close to this boy. It was going to be difficult to say good bye. "No, Walter isn't with us always," he spoke out loud forgetting where he was.

"What he means," Eunice explained self consciously, "is that Walter comes and goes. He's old enough to be his own person, but our home has always been his home, and," her words trailed off.

"We understand," Agnes said in her gentle voice. "It will be hard."

"Our other children are older, and have gone their ways. We've grown accustomed to Walter being there."

"It is good to have someone to depend on," Jed's thoughts were jumbled. He heard the boys come on to the back porch, heard the cistern pump and water gushing into the wash basin as Gene poured hot water in from the kettle. He heard their voices muffled by the distance. Jed could imagine them combing their hair at the mirror, and now their footsteps echoed slightly as they approached the parlor.

"Hello, Father," Walter stopped and greeted his father, then going to his mother gave her a kiss on the cheek, "Hello, Mother," he said with a fond smile.

Only Jed and Agnes could guess at the self-control it must have required for the two older people to carry on as if this were just another day...Just another day.

"Help yourselves to the trays, boys...and there is tea," Jed waved his hand at the table full of food.

"You have out done yourself, Aunt!" Gene flashed Agnes a heart warming grin.

"Mother, I don't know how this woman does it, but she is the best cook--and baker!" Walter praised. "Just look at those sandwiches, and the pastries!" Walter heaped his plate with an assortment of food that underscored his words.

"We wait until you boys are starved--after the outside fresh air, and exercise as well. Grandmother Wade always said, 'Hunger makes a good sauce,' Agnes said with a smile.

"When I went to my first birthday party," Walter began a story, "I was told to--well, you see I have always been what mother calls a 'hearty' eater. So, as I said, when I went to my first birthday party..." For the next hour Walter kept the company laughing as he told stories.

"Father, there is a little red and black airplane, we've been working on," Agnes cringed as he began the story about the airplane.

What would Mr. and Mrs. Henrey think? Their shocked expressions hovered in Agnes' mind like spectors as she imagined their reaction.

"Excuse me a moment," she made an escape to the kitchen. She stood breathless, waiting for their reaction. Straining her ears,

"Walter!" she heard Eunice say.

"Hanging over nothing, I just felt committed."

She heard as she tip-toed back to the room.

"Well, I should say so!" Mr. Henrey exclaimed.

Their faces did not look angry...

"The next thing I knew, someone or something seemed to heave me into the seat...but I was kind of upside down and sideways--"

"Of course, those of us still on the ground..." Gene put his part in the story.

"I thought Albert was going to kiss the barn floor when he got out of the plane!
And you should have seen the automobile driver's face! Go ahead, Walter..."

"That is too funny! Walter, you need to be more careful!" Eunice said wiping the laughter tears off her face. "Are you teasing me that you ended up with tree leaves in your wheels?"

"No, I'm not teasing...but better in the wheels than in the prop! And the Stroll's cows refused to go out of the barn for a week."

"Remember the fellow that Walter had a fight with?"

"Yes, I remember it," Mr. Henrey nodded. "You remembered your instructor's teaching very well, Walter."

"That guy was the fellow that caused poor Albert to get left in the dust by his horse last summer...and he was the fellow in the automobile," Gene said.

"Father, you will not believe this, but Albert's father tried to get a judgement against this guy--Albert had a broken rib from the horse incident."

"Now, why wouldn't I believe that? If he caused an accident..."

"Well, this boy passed out from fright when we skimmed over his head, ran off the road and hit a tree..."

"Served him right!" Mr. Henrey tapped his walking stick on the floor emphatically.

"We flew around-- got landed, Mr. Pickerell and the boys pushed the plane back into the barn where it was stored. --when Mr. Pickerell went down to check on the automobile...this fellow was just coming to. He told the sheriff when he got back to town he was almost run over by an airplane! The sheriff arrested him for public intoxication! His father finally took the automobile away from him, and his allowance was cut! We haven't seen hide nor fender of him since."

"That's it! That's it! He got his comeuppance! For sure..." Mr. Henrey laughed heartily. "Good, that's good!"

***************************

"What a good visit! I'm so glad they came," Agnes said as she the Henrey's automobile glided silently down the lane through the lengthening shadows.

"Yes, what an interesting life they have. They travel quite often now. Mr. Henrey was employed by the government before retiring," Jed put his arm around Agnes.

"Nissa, come help brother clean up," Gene smiled down at the little girl, and took her hand. "You can take this empty plate for me, okay?"

"Nissa hep..." with measured steps she carried the lone plate to the kitchen while Gene followed behind bringing a tray of cake and cookies.

Jed smiled at Agnes, "I guess we'd better be at the work also."

"I guess so!" Agnes smiled her answer.

"It's almost chore time," Gene put the last plate on the counter, "I guess I'll go on out and get started."

"Nissa come?" her little round face pleaded.

"I don't know..." Gene looked down his nose, and gave her a one-eyed look, "better ask first."

Her little feet tapped across the kitchen floor. She tugged on Jed's overall leg, "Nissa go?"

"I suppose so. You keep an eye on her though-" he cautioned Gene.

"She's pretty good. Nissa will sit on the feed barrels for me won't she?" Gene smiled down at her. Her pigtails waggled as she shook her head yes. "Let's go get your jacket and boots on then..."

Nissa chattered to Gene in her nonsense, no nonsense way as she stumped along beside him to the back porch, and all the time as they wrestled into their outside clothes.

"Would you like a cup of coffee?" Agnes asked as she headed for the coffee pot.

"Sure, pour me a cup, before I head out," he sat at the table. "Thank you," he accepted the mug. "So much happening all of a sudden," he blew on the hot coffee.

Agnes sighed and brought her cup around to sit down.

"Why the long face all of a sudden?" Jed asked.

"So many things are changing. So many changes that..." her brow creased and a her face wore a frown.

"Many things don't make sense?"

"Yes, I think that's it. Things were--simple. Now decisions are difficult. I feel like even simple choices carry consequences. Consequences that I don't understand...maybe even consequences I don't want."

"I thought maybe I should tell you," Jed blew on his coffee again, but this time it wasn't from necessity, "David is thinking of moving back to his family home."

"What! It can't be! David wouldn't take Bessie away from her friends--her family? And this has been David's home for the last five years! Many more thoughts whirled through her mind that did not make it to her tongue.

"Whoa! I didn't mean to drop the shoe too sudden."

"Eggs are in," Gene called as he opened the back porch door and set a bucket down.

"I'll be out shortly. After I finish my coffee here," Jed called in answer.

"Alright," Gene said as he closed the door.

"Well, I could see it coming, I guess, to be right honest," Jed put his cup on his knee waiting for it to cool.

"How's that?" Agnes said still dumbfounded. "I don't understand--why?"

"David can earn a better living. There's not enough here for him--but there's more than that--" Jed weighed his words.

"More than making a better living?"

"Well, Agnes, he's working as a preacher. You know that's a work of love, because he doesn't make much there. Especially for the knowledge he's got. Ever since back in '34, he's had big name congregations trying to entice him away. He works as a lawyer on occasion, and that pays better than anything."

"What about teaching? He's such a good teacher. What will the school do with out him?"

"All that is true, but schools are changing Agnes."

"Life is changing, Jed. Look around us. I'm frightened sometimes at the way things are moving, but what is it you are saying?"

"I'm saying that David teaches in the old style. The way it was in the old days, but new methods are coming along. He doesn't agree with the new methods."

"Why not?"

"I don't know. He says he's uncomfortable with them." Jed took a sip of coffee.
"He says that all children are made in the image of God. All children deserve a chance in life."

"So if he leaves, where does that leave our school? Who will do a better job of teaching than David? What does the school board think of his leaving?"

"Hey, hey!" he held up a hand, "Too many questions...I don't know, and I don't know...I don't know that he's made it official yet for one thing, and he hasn't set a time line on it either."

"But he's past the just thinking stage?"

"Yes."

"Oh, I will miss Bessie so!" Agnes said sorrow in her features as well as her voice.

"As you say, things are changing. I have thought on what you said the other evening. I know it's true. We can't hold Gene here. He's so intelligent--look how much he's done and learned! I feel it. Do you think he'll come back?"

"If he's smart he will."

story...

2011-03-22T14:02:00.000-05:00

When I read a 'story' I know it didn't just spring on to the page as it is. I know that it is written, rewritten, then rewritten some more before the final draft. But these posts can give an idea of what and how a story begins to take shape.

I have been working on the rough draft of this story since December 2, 2008. It is about several World War II families, before and after the war. How the gospel affects them and how they respond to circumstances in their changing world and how belief in the gospel changes their response.

Some posts take longer than others due to the amount of research required, even for a rough draft...Smile... and sometimes where you end up is not where you begin.

There are general religious posts on a myriad of topics, some were written before the story posts-which began on December 2, 2008, and some scattered through the story. I have tried to number the chapters on the story or label the chapter with an 's'. Thank you much,

Deboraw

41 In the Flying Machine...

2011-02-19T16:20:00.001-06:00

The hullabaloo drew Walter's attention just before the jerk threw him sideways. He clutched desperately for the side of the plane to avoid being thrown to the ground.

"Oh, no!" David moaned.

"Oh, Lord, help!" the words escaped Gene's lips without conscious thought. A picture flashed through his mind of his new friend being thrown to the ground, or falling helplessly from the plane.

"They're gonna hit the fence!" Mitch and Ike hollered as they came running in time to watch the airplane gain speed. It bumped and swerved along the hard cow path for a spell as Walter fought to stay on board.

Albert flopped to the left side with the starting jerk. He continued to flail from side to side with every bounce and jerk. Attempting to right himself, he grabbed at every thing and anything...his eyes grew large in his long pale face as the fence at the end of the cow pasture began to race toward him.

"Oh, good Lord! My Pa's gonna kill me! he said with a loud groan as the momentum of the vehicle increased dramatically.

"The whole thing's gonna be busted up!" Mitch shouted.

"Well, I'll be ding..."

"That'll be enough young man!" Ike's father twisted his ear. "When we ought to be askin' the favor of the Almighty, there's no reason to go offendin' Him with foul language!"

The spunky little plane lifted clear of the fence by a hair's breadth, and skimmed over the head of the driver in the fancy automobile a few seconds later.

Ahhh Ooga! the horn bellowed as it careened down the road a short distance before it crashed into the ditch coming to rest at the foot of a scrubby, twisted tree.

The group on the ground watched in horror and amazement as the red and black airplane evened out and barely rose above the tree tops its motor buzzing.

"Pastor Dave, lead us in a prayer fer them youngun's," Mr. Stroll said as he removed his hat and bowed his head.

Every one bowed their head also as Mr. Pickerell began in his deep reverent voice, "Almighty God, we come before thee beseeching thee on behalf of those two young men suspended in your heaven. Be merciful and return them to us soon...and safely for it is in Jesus name that we ask--Amen.

"Amen!" Mr. Stroll nodded decisively. He clapped his straw hat back on his graying hair, and looked up into the blue sky expectantly.

"Well, looky there!" Ike shouted as the airplane circled back toward them.

Every one craned their neck watching as the plane flew overhead. It appeared as if Walter was perched half inside the plane still clutching onto--what they could not tell. They watched as it flew on north and made a wide swing and came back from the south. It looked like it was coming in lower, but still too fast.

"They's gonna take the weather vane off the barn!" Mrs. Stroll half screamed and ducked--although she could have known they were not going to hit her.

The next time around Walter was at the controls. The little airplane came in, touched down with a slight bounce, then settled into the business of rolling toward the group gathered in the barnyard. Walter cut the engine and sat head in hands.

Albert Bluey looked--if possible--more pale than when he had woke up after the filly had left him behind in the dust.

"Oh, gol..., I'm sorry Mr. Pickerell--Mr. Stroll," he stammered. "But, I am so thankful--! I'm so thankful!" from the look on his thin face he spoke the truth. "I'm so thankful," he repeated.

"Yes, we are all thankful. And I believe we've had enough adventure today. Let's get this contraption rolled back into the shed!" Mr. Stroll, David, and the boys took their places and maneuvered the little ship back into the shed.

"Alright, Albert we'll give you a hand, but step careful now," David instructed.

Albert's legs wobbled, but he stepped out with help. He half stepped and half slid his way to a bale of hay. He flopped down and lay back with a groan.

"How are you doing?" David called from the ground up at Walter.

"We had visions of...of...very bad things for a time there," Gene crawled up on the wing to speak to Walter, who had regained a portion of his composure.

"You had visions of...? You should have been dangling out over nothingness..." Walter said with wonder. He pulled out his white handkerchief to wipe his face.

"We prayed for you. God listened."

"So that's who put me into the seat. I thought someone must have heaved me in somehow," Walter sat quiet for a short pause. "Remind me to stay away from that--that--Nemesis--I've never seen any one get into as many...situations... as Albert there!"

"You don't know the half of it! I could tell you stories about Albert and the automobile. Albert and the cow. Albert and..."

Enough!" Walter threw up his hands. "Enough...I lived through Albert and the airplane. That's good enough for me--" At that Gene and Walter began to roar with laughter until tears streamed down their faces.

"I wonder what ever happened to those guys in the automobile," Walter wiped his face again. "You should've seen the driver's face!" he began choking with laughter. "His eyes looked like this--" Walter's eyes and mouth flew wide open.

"I gotta get off this wing...before I roll off...!" Gene went into hysterics as he clambered down to the ground. He fell back on the hay bales gasping for air. "Oh, hallelujah! What a day!" He got his breath back as Walter threw himself down on the bale beside him.

"Wal...I don't know what you two find so funny!" Albert's brown eyes looked much darker in his droll face. "I just don't know when I've ever been so skeered in my whole life!"

Gene elbowed Walter, "Show Albert the--the--the face!" he began to hoot all over again.

"You didn't get a look at that driver's face, Albert. I could have shook hands with him I was that close...and his face. I've never seen a face like--it was like this," and Walter's features flew into the look.

"That is kinda funny," Albert snickered, "but I think I've looked like that myself a time or two..." then they all three roared at the joke.

"Next time you go up, it might be wise to plan first, Albert!

"It wasn't my fault. I was just sittin' there mindin' my own business. It's that dumb mutt what's always slobberin' and barkin' at--everything!"

"David went down to check on the driver, and the occupants of the automobile. Maybe they'll stop frequenting this territory," Gene said.

"Maybe," Walter shrugged. "I say we've had enough excitement for one day, let's head on home."

"Yeah, I think you're right. Albert, if you want I'll give you a ride down to your corner..." Gene offered.

"I guess. I'm thinking I ought to just walk, but I don't know if my legs would carry me that far right now."

"I won't tell him this horse hasn't ever been ridden double," Gene whispered to Walter.

"Are you tempting fate or..." Walter rolled his eyes.

Gene just grinned in answer. "Let's ride then," he swung up on Samson then kicked his foot out of the stirrup so Albert could mount. Samson's ears flew back, his head arched down, but he stood his ground.

"Keep your feet off his flanks, and we ought to be all right," Gene spoke over his shoulder. The threesome rode quietly across the field taking the usual short cut, then half a mile to where the Bluey farm lane met the road.

"Here you are. It's not all the way home, but close," Gene waited while Albert swung down careful not to touch the flank.

"Thanks, Gene. It's closer than I was. See you tomorrow."

"Have a good night then, we'll see you later!" the boys waved then kicked the horses into a lope toward home.

"I knew those Stroll boys would get you two into some kind of mess! Oh, my!" Agnes sank down with a thunk. "What would we ever have told your parents, Walter Henrey!"

Gene raised his eyebrows at Walter as they exchanged glances. Neither one had expected Agnes to take the news so hard.

"Now--Mrs. Wade, it's all part of being a..."

"It's part of being a man, Agnes. You gotta get used to the fact. Walter--he's a grown up...young adult, and...?" Jed blinked away the visual image of Gene standing on a precipice--the verge of manhood. The idea hit Jed with a sudden wallop. He turned away to hide his reaction, and spied the three layer chocolate cake sitting on the counter. He reached for the knife, "Here, have a piece of cake, boys," he said sliding big pieces of cake on to plates.

"Jed, you'll spoil their supper," Agnes looked up startled.

"Naw! They're growin' boys--besides the way they're goin' we best let 'em have their cake now."

"Jed!" Agnes screeched then caught the ornery twinkle in his eyes. "Jedidiah Wade! Course you boys can have cake...my father used to say, 'eat your dessert first...'," Agnes fanned herself. "I'd say you two have had enough adventure for today."

"Thank you, Mr. Wade," Walter accepted the plate. "I don't think I've ever seen a more appetizing cake."

"This is really good!" Gene said. "It wasn't really the Stroll boys fault--or even Albert's," Gene stopped and took a bite.

"Really, Mrs. Wade, it was just--" Walter stopped to think. "I'd say, just dumb luck."

"I'd say 'dumb luck' happens too often with them two!"

"Yes, and Albert Bluey," Jed chimed in. "That boy--it 'pears to me--is always right in the middle of something!"

"Yeah, he can't help it," Gene said. "He isn't any dumber than most of us. I think he just has a knack."

"A knack?"

"He can be standing there minding his own life, and chance comes along and hits him alongside the head!"

"I don't think that's a good knack to have."

"Well, maybe not, but so far he's pretty close to a one talent man..."

"Oh, Nissa!" Agnes was teaching her daughter to use her spoon neatly. "Here, honey..."

"It's time for us to head out to the field. Won't take us long."

"Supper will be in about an hour and a half, so don't dally--" Agnes finished cleaning the cake off of Nissa's plate. "That's all, baby," she smiled and showed her the empty plate.

"Aww gone," Nissa repeated and held up her pudgy baby hands.
************************************

Walter lay awake in the night. With his eyes closed he still experienced the texture on the fuselage, the desperation of getting into the inside of the ship safely. He could smell the fear, and feel the adrenalin pulsing through his veins. Yes, it was funny, but there was more truth in his words than laughter. "Someone must have heaved me in somehow." Walter did not remember how he found strength to get into the plane. He remembered scrambling to gain a hand or foot hold, and then he was inside.

He opened his eyes to the dark. The conversation from the chess game came back to him..."I believe in God. You can't have something without a creator. Nothing comes from nothing."
*****************************

"I don't know how it happened, Agnes."

"What do you mean?" The rocker creaked softly on the porch boards. Agnes crooned a quiet childhood ditty, and Nissa, sleepy eyed, began drifting into sleepy land.

"What I mean is...have you looked at our boy lately?" anger and confusion smoldered in Jed's eyes.

"Well," Agnes drug the word out with a sigh. "Yes, I have," she smoothed the baby's fine tawny hair off of her forehead. "Yes, I have."

"He's growed up! When did...how?" he faltered his Bible resting on his knee.

"It's going to be powerful hard to let him go. That must be why God sent us Nissa..." Agnes continued to stroke the soft baby skin.

"Let him go?" His voice held a note of horror.

"Yes, let him go. God has a purpose for each of us. Our lives will always be twined, but the paths don't necessarily go parallel at all times."

"I guess I never thought..." the velvet darkness had settled around them.

"We saw a change when he came back from Europe. He settled back into our life so easy like, maybe we thought we could keep him here. But there was a subtle change on the inside, Jed. A change that was deeper than the fine clothes he wore."

"I don't see how he could be more of my son if we had birthed him ourselves. When you've suffered and worked, and--side by side--," he paused. "I know you're right. It's just, time has passed so quick. Gene's only sixteen...going on seventeen, but it's gone so fast. And I'm afraid of the future. The government goin' the way it is here at home. People's just plain foolish!"

"And what we can see of the rest of the world isn't reassuring. We thought the last world war was the one to end them all...awful, awful things," she said with a shudder.

"Things look to be darkening on all sides."

"It's time for bed. You want to take Nissa? I have some things to put away in the kitchen then I'll be up."

"Yes, let me have the little tyke," he put his Bible on the arm of the chair and took the baby from Agnes. Jed knew it was best to let the troublesome thoughts rest. Morning would come and things would look brighter then.

"This is the best bacon and eggs, Mrs. Wade, and these biscuits are so light! You'll have to give Mother the recipe for our cook--" Walter slathered homemade butter and plum butter on his steaming hot biscuit.

"I'm sure your cook has plenty of biscuit recipes, Walter."

"She may have, but none of them beat yours!"

"Well, thank you. That is so kind of you," she smiled with pleasure.

"I think today we'll just go...?" Jed began, but the telephone jangling interrupted him. "I don't know...who could that be?" he stumped out to where the telephone hung just inside the kitchen.

"Hello?!" he never had gotten the notion out of his mind that sound traveled over the wires and he didn't need to talk loud just to be heard. "Hello? Yes, Mr. Henrey! Yes, Walter's right here. Just a Minute."

"Yes, sir?" Walter held the receiver to his ear, and spoke into the mouth piece. "Well...yes, sir. Any time you are ready...Yes, I will be ready. I'll see you soon. Good bye," he hung up.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Wade," he turned to the family. "Father is going to be taking Mother for a 'pleasure' drive. They will be in Littleton for lunch and wish to stop out and pick me up early afternoon. Something has come up quite suddenly, and--"

"That is quite all right, Walter," Jed held up his hands. "I was thinking we could go fishing, but--God willing--there will be another time. Get your gear packed, and you boys better hurry around if there's any good bye saying that you need to do..."

"Thank you both. I have enjoyed my visit with you so much. Yes, there are several things I need to do before leaving. Gene, come help me pack..."

"Sure, I'll come with you. I've got something I want to give you..." the boys' voices faded out as they hurried up the stairs.

"I don't know--but it sounded urgent to me," Jed frowned as Agnes began clearing the table.

"Urgent? Why would it be urgent? Do you suppose it has to do with those rumors about the Dorkings...and Angela?"

"How would I know," he almost snapped.

"Jed! You don't have to be angry at me...I was just wondering aloud."

"I know, Peaches. There's just been so many queer things happening lately."

"We'll find out soon enough, I guess. I'll fix a nice dessert and plan on a small luncheon for when they arrive...just in case they have time for a visit..." Agnes thought out loud. "Just in case..."

s 40 "hey!"

2011-02-07T18:58:00.001-06:00

Too late Eileen saw Angela, and her guests. Her face flamed with embarrassment...

"I'm sorry," the hotel manager said, "the tables are all taken. You will have to come back tomorrow."

Greg surveyed the posh dining room with elegant table settings and the well dressed patrons. His eyes stopped, and narrowed. Anger rose in his heart when he recognized Gene Wade. The nerve of that dirt farmer, sitting next to Angela and snickering. Greg knew who he was laughing at... "Yeah, well you can tell those farmers to leave, and we'll just take those seats..."

"I'm sorry," Mr. Wappleburg glanced in the direction Greg Bilker pointed. "I see no 'farmers'. Only Guests of his Lordship, and Le Comte Bouchette."

"Come on Greg," Eileen hissed. "I don't want a scene!" she turned to leave.

"I want..." his voice rose belligerently.

"Well, I don't!" Eileen walked back out the door as fast as she could, wishful that no one...especially Angela's friend, Walter, had seen her...

"Excuse me," Walter stood. "I think there are a few minutes before the musicians begin."

"I'll be right back, Angela," Gene followed close behind Walter.

Greg Bilker followed Eileen out the door, "Just where do you think you're going?" he snatched angrily at her. "I said we would come for the show, and I'll get us..."

Eileen pulled away. "Greg, I don't want to come here. I just want to leave. Let my arm loose!" she tried to pull away.

"Eileen!" his fingers dug into her wrist.

"You're hurting me...let me go!" she cried.

"Would you mind?" Walter said as he removed his tailored evening coat and handed it to Gene.

"No--that's quite alright," Gene accepted the coat. "Anything else you would care for me to hold?"

"I think that should do it...I shan't be long here. Pardon me," Walter tapped Greg on the shoulder. "Don't you know--that's not the way you treat a lady?"

"Butt on out buster, this isn't any of your affair," Greg snarled.

"Greg, just leave me alone!" Eileen pulled free.

"Alright! You asked for it--" Greg wound up a punch as he turned toward his opponent.

Pop! Walter's fist caught him in the nose. Pop, pop...two quick jabs to the jaw. Before Greg knew what had happened he was leaning against the lamp post, holding a handkerchief to his bloody nose, wondering just what was going on.

"Sorry, but you would have it...I told you, that is no way to treat a lady. Would you care for another go round?" Walter wiped his brow with his immaculate white handkerchief.

"Why you...!" Greg dropped his handkerchief and took a step toward this interloper.

Walter handed his handkerchief to Gene then up came his fists, "Go ahead...I'll give you the first punch," he offered.

"The rest of you boys just back off. I wouldn't make any hasty moves on your part," Gene warned Greg's other two friends.

Greg was a good fighter, but in one fluid motion Walter moved out of the way of Greg's punch and with the same fluid motion came back with two solid punches of his own then delivered two more swift punches for added emphasis.

"Your coat?" Gene held out the item. Greg's buddies stood google-eyed, not sure what to do.

"Yes, I think we are done here," Walter slipped back into his evening coat, and tucked his handkerchief into its place.

"Eileen..." he offered her his arm. "Would you care to join us?"

Eileen's upward gaze into his face focused only on his sympathetic brown eyes. Her heart did a thousand flips in those few seconds. "Yes," she whispered. She draped her evening wrap over her reddened wrist and accepted his arm.

The whole fracas had appeared framed in the hotel window, almost like a picture show. Wait! Wait! mentally Angela's mind shouted. She squelched the desire to run out and stop the show. Walter was her friend. He was there embedded in her memory from the earliest moments. Now she saw him slipping away...but he had always been a brother figure in her mind, nothing more. It could not be jealousy that she felt, or could it?

Eileen had been her mother's pick for a guest, not someone Angela considered as a friend. Too many feelings, too many emotions crowded into her world as the three some approached the table.

"Let's rearrange our seating," Walter suggested. "Gene, you sit where I sat, and I'll sit where Gene sat, and..."

"I'll move down one space, and Eileen can sit in between," Edgar moved over to the last empty seat.

The waiter brought a glass of water for Eileen, and the lights dimmed slightly as the first notes began to float over the hushed audience.

****************************************

"Chance. Just pure chance. That's what brought us together," Lord Hughes told David.

"I would attribute it to the providence of God, myself." David dabbed at his mouth and slid his chair back from the table. "We could retire to my study and let the girl clear the table?"

"I suppose it it difficult to secure competent help out here in the wilderness," Philip Bouchette added. "No matter, we can fend for ourselves--Miss? I would like some tea...in the library, please."

David smiled, amused at his acquaintances' idea of 'fending for themselves', and living in the 'wilderness'.

"This way," David showed the pair to his library. "It will be a few weeks before Bessie is out of 'confinement'. She and the new baby are resting comfortable now...thankfully. However, if you don't mind...have a seat while I dash up and make sure all is well with Bessie and the little one..."

"Right then, we'll just take a look around," Lord Hughes said.

"I'll be right back. Nora..." David was off on his errand.

"This is quite a comfortable little cottage," the count said seating himself on the sofa.

"How the local people live here year round is beyond me," Lord Hughes exclaimed as he perused the books on the shelves.

"It would be quite a strain...I would find it necessary to import competent help. Everyone is so...green. No one knows the first thing about etiquette really."

"In some ways that is what is so appealing about this country. It's so new, so rough..."

David opened the door, careful not to drop anything. "Bessie's resting peaceful, and so is the baby. Here, Nora," he spoke over his shoulder to the young girl that was bringing the hot water. "Just put the pot on the coffee table there. Did you two make yourself comfortable?" he put the tray down next to the pot of hot water. "After you clear the table, wash and put away the dishes, then you may go home."

"Yes, Mr. Pickerell."

"Thank you, Nora." David said as she backed out the door.

"I did not know that you were studying for law?" Lord Hughes snapped the book shut he had been holding and replaced it on the shelf.

"Actually, I have already finished. I have done small cases as well as teach school and preach," David ran his fingers through his thick dark hair.

"Then you can appreciate all the more fully the case we have been working on," Lord Hughes sat down and took the cup of hot tea that David handed him.

"I certainly can. In this day of enlightenment it is unthinkable that people can just 'poof' disappear!" David handed the Count his cup. "Would you care for some sugar?" he held up the sugar bowl. "So does Angela know?"

"Not exactly...the Henreys are staying with the Dorkings. We want to make sure we have all of the legal points covered before we make any moves. Maybe we should have you look over these papers to see if you think we've missed anything..."

"I can do that if you would like," David moved the tea service to his desk in order to spread the papers out.
*****************************

"All the adventures have been had," Albert Bluey said with a dejected sigh and laid back on the grassy road bank, and stuck a piece of fox tail grass in his mouth. "There's nothin' new under the sun...just like it says in the Bible."

"Oh come on Al, that can't be true. Why, just think-- a couple of weeks ago you got your first broke rib!"

"That wasn't an adventure! But my Pa said if it ever happened again it would be an adventure..." Albert wore a sheepish grin.

"Last year I tried smokin' a cigarette, but that wasn't an adventure," Mitch said.

"I thought about trying some tobacco. My pa smokes a pipe on occasion..." Albert sat up again.

"My Pa caught me a smoking that thing...he rolled me up several and made me smoke ever one a them...I was so sick! I liked ta died, I was so sick! I never want to see another one a those things!"

"Maybe I don't want to try that after all...it's just too bad there isn't anything exciting no more," Albert laid back in the grass.

"You know, now that you mention it," Ike Stroll sat with his arms around his knees, "when we was cleaning out one of the stalls in the back of the barn--you'll never guess what I found..." he looked around the group of boys.

"Well, tell us what you found!" Kenny Trevor spoke up after what seemed like a long pause.

"I tell you what...Ma is frying doughnuts today. Let's go to our place and I'll show you what I found--"

Missus Stroll set the heaping platter of hot fried doughnuts on the table, "Eat up now, boys!" she exclaimed with hearty encouragement. She was a big boned motherly woman. She and her only daughter were always busy with the housekeeping, meals, and daily routine.

The boys took doughnut after doughnut, but the platter was kept full and always there was the encouragement for them to, "Eat up! There's a-plenty where those came from!"

"I'm sure I'll bust if I eat any more!" Larry Hill moaned as he finished off his tenth doughnut.

"...maybe I'll just eat one more little one...Albert--where are you stuffing those you've eaten! And you're so skinny!"

"I've got a hollow leg. I just put them in there when you're not looking...for eatin' later," the tall young man grinned as he stuck the last of one in his mouth and picked up the next hot doughnut. "These is real good Missus Stroll. Course I got ta say my ma's is best--family and all--but put side to side, I'd be hard pressed to choose!"

"Now, Albert, you're right. Stand behind your Ma...and I've tasted her cookin' she is a mighty good cook...but I thank you for the compliment!"

"It's the truth, ma'am!" he finished up his doughnut.

"Ma, I got something to show the fellas out in the barn...when they're done eating."

"Ike, now don't go getting into no foolishness--you hear me now boys?" she wagged a warning finger at them.

"Yes, ma'am," Ike and Mitch chorused. "Come on, boys. Let's go," Ike eyed the way the group was devouring the doughnuts.

"Thank you, ma'am," the boys stuffed the last of their doughnuts in their mouth as they filed out of the house. Dust rose from their bare feet as they crossed the farm drive way, and ambled into the darkened barn.

"It's back here in this big back stall..." Ike led the way to a dark out-of-the-way stall in the back of the big barn. He leaned against the wall so the boys could crowd around and see his find.

"Oh! Now that's a find!" Albert breathed reverently as if it had been the Holy Grail. "Can I touch it?"

"Sure, it looks sturdy enough..."

"When did you find that?" Ike's brother Mitch frowned at him. "Why didn't you tell me about it first?"

"Pa sent me to clean back in here this morning. I woulda told you about it, but the fracas in the hen house right before lunch time clean knocked it out of my mind. That is, till we were sitting on the bank there, and Albert was feelin' sorry for hisself..."

"What kind of...boat do you think it is?" Albert caressed the wooden frame with his long calloused fingers. "What's it got all them doodads there on it for?"

"Albert!" Mitch burst out, "Albert, don't you know an airplane when ya see it?!"

"An...airplane? Oh, wow!" Albert stopped stroking the wood, "You aren't pulling a fast one on me now are you?" his eyes narrowed and he squinted at the Stroll brothers. "Like the time you told me about that automobile out by the haystack..."

"Now, Albert we was just funnin' ya that time...no, Al, this is the real thing. That there is an airplane frame. Look--see here--you take some kind of material, attach it onto the frame, cover it with dope, and..."

"Ya, I see. The only dope is me! What would an airplane be doing in the back of this here barn? You suppose it's gonna fly back here? An there ain't no motor on it neither! And 'zactly how's it gonna get out of here? Just tell me that, will ya!"

"He's got a good point there," several other voices agreed with Albert.

"I tell ya what, Al," Ike pushed his Doolittle Feed store cap to the back of his head. "Mitch, you run see if you can find Pa. He knows some about airplanes, he can tell us what he thinks."
************************************************

"Mr. Dorking, why in all these years, didn't you even attempt to find Angela's family?"

"That's not quite true, Sir Hughes. We did wonder, and even look, but there was nothing in her mother's belongings that gave a next of relation," Bill Dorking wiped the perspiration from his brow.

"We raised her like she was our own daughter. Took care of her, and saw to it she had everything she needed!" Mrs. Dorking spoke with an indignant air.

"You lived quite well at that," Sir Hughes sat back on the sofa assessing the couple before him. "On Angela's money..."

"You wouldn't want her to be raised like a pauper, now would you?" Mrs. Dorking sniffed.

"So, what do you propose to do?"

"I'm not exactly sure--" Lord Hughes turned at the knock on the library door.

"You wanted me?" Angela opened the door and peeked into the room.

"Yes, Angela. Come in and shut the door please," Mr. Dorking smiled at her.

"Angela, would you like to come stay at Oak Park with the Henreys and myself for a few weeks?" Sir Hughes asked.

"I don't know," Angela's eyes opened wide and she grasped at her lace collar. "I--don't know..."
*************************************

"I'm working a couple of four year olds for my employer. I'd like to take them out if you don't mind...First, let's go up to the house for a few minutes. I've got some things I want to show you before we go out." Gene reached down and scratched Shep behind the ears. "Stop your whining, you old scoundrel!" he scolded.
Aunt Agnes! Uncle Jed!" he called as the screen door slapped shut behind Walter Henrey and himself.

Walter stood with his hands in his pockets perusing the family pictures on the walls in the living room. He stopped to run his fingers over a well worn Bible laying on a small table in the corner close to the colonnade between the dining room. Such a small house he thought, but spotlessly clean and well kept. Nice furniture, with the look of family treasures. Out of the corner of his eye the color pink caught--and drew-- his attention to the open stair door.

"Hello there," he smiled at the little blond cherub perched primly on the bottom step. She continued to observe him silent as a cat, thumb secured in her mouth.

"We won't be late for supper," Gene's voice called over his shoulder as he bustled into the room. "Come on Nissa," he caught up the little bundle and taking two steps at a time carried her along with him leading the way to his bedroom.

That was an odd thing Walter had noticed about this new found acquaintance. Like a battery full of stored energy, Gene did not look like anything out of the ordinary, but he was boundless in many surprising ways.

Although the bedroom was small compared to what Walter was accustomed to, it was neat and comfortable. The room contained a four poster bed covered with the hand sewn nine-patch quilt, the polished wood floor was covered with one large home made rag rug, and several smaller rugs placed around the room, a dresser as well as a bureau matched the bed, a desk and chair took up one corner, and a trunk sitting at the end of the bed completed the furnishings.

While Gene was busy thumbing through several sketches and drawings with one hand, and holding the little girl with the other, his friend was at liberty to look at the projects hanging on the walls, or in cases.

"You must be always busy!" he exclaimed. "My father's conservatory doesn't look half this busy! Whose picture is this?" Walter stopped to scrutinize an oval picture in a dark colored frame. The tall slim man in a stylish suit with a serious, but not quite austere air stood beside a graceful large-eyed, dark-haired beauty in a taffeta and lace gown and a matching taffeta and lace hat. She held in her gloved hands a dainty bouquet.

"Don't Nissa--" Gene shook his head as Nissa patted his face. "That's my father and mother," he turned to look at what Walter was looking at. "My father was killed in an accident, and my mother died shortly there after. My Uncle and Aunt adopted me, and I've been here ever since."

"That's tough--about your parents--but I say, they're quite a dashing couple. You and your Uncle look so much alike...but now I can see why. There's such a family resemblance."

"Most people think of us as father and son," he stopped looking through his drawings. "Nissa! You little minx!" he smiled at her as she threw her pudgy little arms around his neck.

"Wuv you!"

"Love you, too. Here--let brother put you down on the chair. Here's a sheet of paper and pencil, while I show Master Walter brother's sketch..."

"You're very patient," Walter took the sketch Gene held out to him. "This is very good--why are you sketching airplanes?" he examined the different layouts of wings, and fuselage.

"Some neighbor boys found the frame of an airplane in their barn," Gene grinned.

"And they think they're going to finish it and..." Walter laughed. "Do they have any idea about--flying, or--any of this?" he waved a hand over the sketches.

"Naw, we're all pretty green at this. David is helping. He has some experience, and I found some blueprints, and some drawings at the library in town. You mentioned that you had helped build and fly a plane...I thought maybe we could..."

"Sure. I can take a look, maybe, do you have a motor?"

"Well, somebody's brother has a friend that has a motorcycle that they're going to let us have."

"It'll have to be remodeled, you know," Walter scratched his chin. "But it can work."

"Let's ride on over then, and take a look--" Gene rolled up his sketches and stuck them under his arm, and helped Nissa down off her chair. "You going to help make some cake?" he took her hand.

"We'll be back before chore time!" he handed Nissa to his Aunt. "We're riding the bays over to the Stroll farmstead. We'll be gone for a couple of hours."

"You be careful now...them Stroll boys have a knack for mischief and you don't need any of that!" Agnes warned.

"I know, but David should be there, so maybe things will be calm," he reassured her.

"Humpf! We'll see--don't be late,now."

"I don't usually saddle my own mount. Father was adamant when I first began riding that I learn how to take care of my animal, but after I became proficient he wasn't as strict," Walter pulled the cinch up tight then dropped the stirrup down.

"I'm the chap that does it all here. I've been working horses for Mr. Goodnite since spring," Gene slipped the bridle on his horse and unlatched the halter and hung it on the peg in front of him. "Uncle Jed came down with pneumonia last winter. I've stayed home to help in the field and do the farm work. We were needing money for the doctor bills and things...Mr. Goodnite was looking for a hand, and it worked for both of us," he finished with a shrug. "Your horse's name is Shamgar--Sham for short."

"That's an odd name," Walter laughed as they led their horses to the barn door.

"Mine's Samson. Mr. Goodnite allowed me to name them...I figured I'd start with the Judges," Gene flipped the reins over his horse's neck, stuck his foot in the stirrup and swung up.

"You folks must be very religious," Walter stepped into his stirrup and did likewise.

"Religious?" Gene blinked in surprise. "Why's that?"

"I'd never have thought to name horses after Judges out of the Bible, is all."

"Oh, folks do stuff like that all the time around here--doesn't mean they're religious--maybe they're just desperate."

"Desperate?"

"Well, they can't think of anything else and it's Bible names what comes to mind."

The boys both laughed as they clucked their horses into a trot down the lane toward the road.

"Is this farmstead far?" Walter asked.

"No. You can see it from here--across the section, but you can't get there from here."

"I'm thinking you've got an odd way of expressing yourself..."

"Just follow me. You'll see what I mean. I've been working these two slow and easy, so we won't flat out run them."

"You lead the way, then. Don't worry about me."
******************************************

"Watch it! Watch it!" David cautioned the boys as they carefully positioned the motor. "Whew!" He said and wiped his forehead with his handkerchief. "This airplane is finally taking shape. It won't be long before it's in running order.... By the way, Walter, how long will you be with us yet?"

"Father and Mother will be leaving soon, and probably Sir Hughes. They have already stayed much longer than anticipated..." Walter turned to Gene, "If you follow these steps here," he traced with a finger on the blue prints.

"Okay, I understand," Gene nodded and turned back to the work they needed to do next.

Walter stepped back to talk with David. "So, I'm not sure that we will be here another week even..."

"I helped build a glider back a few years ago," David said, "but since you have built your own plane, and have a pilot's license--well, I don't need to tell you how indispensable that has been! I was hoping you'd be around when we get it together."

"We're gonna have to go do chores in a little bit, Mr. Pickerel," Mitch and Ike came to stand beside David and Walter. "We have everything in place and hooked up that Gene gave us to do."

"I need to be headin' on home too," Albert said as he scooped up a kitten. "Mitch these things are the cutest fool things. My Ma's been wanting a couple of cats--we got mice so blamed--'scuse me, Mr. Pickerell, I didn't mean..." Albert blushed bright red, "but we got mice awful bad."

"I think Ma and Pa would be willing to part with a couple of kittens. I'll ask and let you know," Mitch said reaching out and poking at the kitten with a piece of straw. "They are purty cute at that," Mitch snickered as the kitten vigorously batted at the straw with its tiny paws. "Ouch!" he pulled his finger back as the sharp claws caught on his finger instead. He looked at the school teacher and stuck his finger in his mouth to keep from saying anymore.

"You boys have done a fine job with finishing this project," David stood back to assess how far they had come. "The skin is on, the wings are on, the engine has been converted and it's in place--there's just some fine tuning and it should be ready for a test. I'm hoping we can have it going before Walter has to leave..."

"I guess we'll come by tomorrow after school--maybe Saturday we'll have it ready?" Albert let the kitten jump down and run after its playmates that were rolling in the straw and clambering over a stack of lumber.

"We'll use that as a target anyway. Gene? Walter? I'll pick you up tomorrow after we're done with school?"

"That will be fine. We'll see you then tomorrow. Good night..." Gene and Walter waved at the rest of the boys as they each left walking or riding.

"I've enjoyed working on this," Walter grasped the reins on his horses bridle and mounted. "It will be good to get it finished though."

"It has been fun having you stay with us for the last week."

"I've enjoyed your Uncle and Aunt very much. They have a much more simple life than we do, but that's not all bad."

"Having lived in both situations it reminds me of a Bible verse--'I have learned, in whatsoever state I am, therewith to be content.'

"That's a good idea...whatsoever state--be content. I'm quite happy to live the way I normally do. I don't know that I want anything different, but...that's still good. Be content."

They rode on in silence. Walter's eyes searched the landscape as he thought on what would it be like to live in the manner that these farmers did.

"My family has always had money--and wealth. We've always done what we wanted to in life..." Walter paused not sure of what he wanted to say.

"Money and wealth doesn't always bring happiness," Gene said.

"Yes, that's true. I had an Uncle that lost everything in the crash. It drove him crazy. Father had been more wise, and much more careful. The crash hurt us in some ways, but--" he shrugged.

"Your parents seem so nice. Quiet and not--this is an odd term maybe, but not haughty and prideful."

"They both have impressed on me that it is how you treat those who have less than yourself that shows the true character of a person. They were both excited with the prospect of my visit with you and your family."

Gene's face wore a puzzled look. "Why ever for?"

"They are both impressed with your Aunt and Uncle. Father liked some of your Uncle's observations the other evening at the Hotel. Mother thinks your Aunt is very stylish and elegant...of course your little sister--Mother has a soft spot for well-mannered little girls," he said with a grin. "Father says if more people paid attention to the hard-working men and women of this country we'd all be better off!"

"Whoa!" Gene's horse came to a stop in the shade of several scrubby trees growing in the fence row. "I'm glad we took this short cut." they watched a car speed down the road a mile away.

"Doesn't that guy ever give up?"

"He hasn't yet," Gene sighed. "At least he's not going our way. And he's gone now." They nudged their horses into a gentle lope across the pasture, out onto the road the car had just motored the other way on, and they turned toward home and evening chores.

"That was certainly a good meal, Mrs. Wade," Walter folded his napkin and slid back from the table.

"Thank you, Walter. It wasn't anything fancy, just home cooked fare," her smile was warm and friendly.

"You boys go on and finish your game, now. Jed and I will clear the table," Agnes tried to shoo Gene into the living room when he picked up his plate and began stacking it with the others.

"Since we don't usually have hired help," Gene explained to the company, we all pitch in and help clear things off. It may seem archaic, but..."

"No, no, I totally understand," Walter stood back. "When we go camping--my father and I like to go out on camping trips--we do our own cooking and clean up as well."

"You just wait for me in the living room. This won't take but a jiffy," Gene said.

"I need to pop up to my room for a minute before our game anyway," Walter excused himself.

Walter studied the chess board, re-planning his moves. Gene had picked up the game fast, and he had spoiled a couple of Walter's moves already.

Chess was not the fastest game Gene had ever played, and it was very tricky. He watched and pondered as Walter moved his rook then in the next move he moved his knight. "Check mate," Walter said quietly.

"Oh, no!" Gene grinned. "You got me again!"

"Yes, but you're catching on fast. That's the funny side of things, you know. Too many people get cocky. It's easy when you're playing someone inexperienced--I've seen good players get whipped because they figured the other person didn't know anything...and the other person got lucky."

"I like it. It's different than checkers, but it teaches me to look ahead."

"Yes, that and don't get cocky!"

"Strange that the most important piece on the board is the queen," Gene picked up his queen as he studied the board. "I think everyone should learn to play chess."

Walter blinked at him, "You may have something there," he agreed. "Angela thinks very highly of you--you know that, don't you," it was a statement more than a question.

"I guess I had hoped so."

"She does, and I appreciate that. She's like a sister to me. The Dorkings have moved quite often and I don't get to see her as much as when we were close friends and neighbors."

"Something is wrong in her life, isn't it?" Gene's gaze was concerned. "It's none of my business, but she's had some difficult times lately."

"Angela's a trooper. I can say that for her. And that's about all I can say. She's very close to Mr. Pickerell's wife isn't she?"

"It's rather odd, but, yes, she and Miss Bessie--I mean Mrs. Pickerell are very close. Angela has taken to helping Bessie since before the baby was born."

"Mr. Pickerell is very interesting," Walter paused rubbing his fingers mindlessly over his bishop. "You folks are much more...down home religious than people are where I come from."

"What makes you say that?"

"We usually attend church services once a week, but it's more of a social thing. You know, we don't want others to think we're--atheists or something. We don't want to take it too seriously though."

"I would like to say that I understand, but..."

"No, your religion means something to you, so of course you wouldn't understand. I wish I could feel that convinced. I wish I could feel so...sure."

"So--sure?"

"There's no doubt that your God exists, that he cares, and participates in your life. For me? I--I just don't feel it. Don't see it."

"I think doubt is good," Gene said. "You want to play another game, or?"

"Doubt? Good?" Walter looked astonished. "--we better get to bed...tomorrow's a busy day..." he sat up and began putting the pieces back in the box.

"It's like this...faith isn't a blind leap."

"That's what I've always thought it was...why isn't it?"

Gene turned the board around for Walter to reach the rest of the pieces.

"I test myself some times...for instance, do I believe God exists, and if so why?

"Okay, so what do you come up with?"

"I have to believe in a Creator--nothing comes from nothing--so that means all of this has to come from something..."

Yes, that's scientific fact. A creation has to have a creator," Walter's face creased in thought as he gently closed the box. "So you believe in God."

"The Bible contains facts that only God could and would know."

"Like what? I know professors who call it a bunch of fables...stories like the Indians, Eskimos, Africans...like their stories..."

Gene stood up and stretched. "David gave me some books, and archeological digs have uncovered artifacts that validate things scripture says. Science as well--look at Psalms where it says 'all things that pass through the paths of the sea...',"

"I guess I'll have to do some reading too." Walter said. "We'll have to get an early start in the morning...good night."

"Good night."

*************************************

"You about done back there, Gene?" Walter called from his perch on the wing.

"Yeah, just about..." Gene answered, he smiled at the picture Walter made in his immaculate shirt and trousers, balanced between the wings making the adjustments on the struts. He turned as the farm collie barked at the sound of David's auto rolling up the drive.

"Gene!" David motioned to him.

"What do you need?" he put down his wrench and walked out toward the automobile.

Albert slid out and walked toward the airplane, "Good dog! Good, boy!" he tried to push the extremely friendly animal away. "Go on Ruff. Stop slobbering on me! ...it's sure turned out fine..." he shouted over the noise of the engine, and ran his fingers over the fuselage and along the tip of the wing. "Say, Walter, could I..." he hesitated, "could I just sit in it while it's running?"

"What's that Albert?" Walter felt like he was doing contortions trying to get everything adjusted just right.

"I just wondered--if maybe I could sit in the cockpit while it's idling. I won't touch nothin'...just to sit..."

"Well, don't touch anything! Just sit,"

"Oh, boy...that's all I want to do...it's like a dream come true..." he was so excited he almost tripped. Albert forced his body to calm down as he clambered into the cock pit.

"Okay, Al. Just sit...quiet...I'm just about done,"

"We'd have been here sooner, but had some problems with some new children..." David explained as he and Gene stood by the car. "Albert's been--what is he doing?"

"Looks like Al is going to sit in the airplane. Don't worry, it's well tethered...and not going anywhere," Gene grinned at David.

"That maybe so, but you know Al..."

"I wondered where you were. Mitch and Ike have been home for about half an hour. They had to run do some errand for their ma. They'll be right...that fool dog--I don't know how he got loose. Mitch had him tied up, but he's back to pestering around..."

"Woof! Woof! Woof! Ruff bounded around the big gray and white mother cat, who had been content to watch the multi-colored kittens rolling and frolicking in the hay in front of the shed.

The mother cat took exception to the big, dumb mutt. Convinced she and her brood were in imminent danger she expanded to a ball of claws and fur twice her normal size. Hissing and spitting at the offending creature, the pair began dancing around each other. Ruff, believing it was a good natured adventure, kept circling around her barking with absolute abandon.

Mama cat and two kittens made a wild dash, flew up the rope that tied the plane to the side of the barn, and, latching on, and hung there tenaciously.

Gene's shoes were filled with lead. He saw the mama cat and two kittens hanging on the rope, the excited mutt yipping and jumping up to nip at the air just under the frightened animals, and he knew what had to occur next...

s39-- Dinner/Party

2010-11-19T19:26:00.003-06:00

"Don't need anymore polishing--You look ready to go, son," Jed said around the kitchen door.

Gene gave himself a critical look in the mirror that hung over the wash basin. He gave his hair one more swipe with the comb. "I guess this is as good as I get. I shouldn't be too awful late," he dropped the comb back into the comb and brush holder that hung on the wall beside the sink. "Are you three ready?" the sunlight barely slanted through the kitchen window as he walked into the dining room.

"You are going over to Bessie's brother's, right? Say now..." Gene closed one eye and squinted at Jed. "you don't look too bad yourself, Uncle. I'd say Aunt did a job on your evening clothes as well."

Jed straightening up stood taller in the afternoon light. He had a certain easy air about him that made his tailored black suit fashionable enough to pass as evening clothes.

"Yes, we'll only be three blocks away...or --Agnes?" he blinked. "Agnes! You look...terrific! You've out done yourself!"

"Thank you..." Agnes smiled as color tinted her cheeks at the sudden notice. The deep rose colored silk dress with elbow length puff sleeves and a tulip style skirt that flowed to just above the ankles accentuated her still slender figure. Her long tawny hair was rolled just forward from ear to ear and around the back of her head, while a matching deep rose and black striped turban set off her fine facial features. Nissa's deep rose colored dress was sewn in a matching style, but with white lace trim and a white and rose colored bonnet.

"It's three-- you walk up north half a block then back east two blocks and then on north again half a block. And yes," she pushed the jeweled hat pin into her turban and firmly anchored it in place, "we're ready to go."

"Nissa, don't get messy now, honey," she bent to straighten the lace on Nissa's pink silk dress and twitch the collar into place.

"I would say you don't need to look any better...why the folks at the dinner party will be so dazzled by your presence the way it is!" Agnes brushed an imaginary object from Gene's coat as she examined his evening clothes, then his appearance from well combed hair to his black patent leather dress shoes.

"How fortunate that you spent last summer with Alistair in Europe. I poured over the fashion magazines trying to be up on the newest styles when I adjusted your evening clothes. I'd say you'll do...," she picked up her handbag and lace gloves. "No, Nissa, don't get Gene messy either. Just walk with me. Brother's going to a party and he wants to look nice, honey."

Gene winked, smiled and made a google-eyed face at Nissa. She giggled and began to skip and lisp, "Party. Party. Party." as Agnes took her small hand and they walked to the automobile.

Gene did not remember much about the drive into town. The weather was dry--but not exceedingly so--and nothing could ever be as hot as the summer's weather of 1936. The wind blew and blew, but at least it blew the dry, dusty road dirt away from them. Soon they were pulling up in front of the Dorking residence.

"You did remember your gifts?" Agnes worried out loud.

"Yes, Aunt. I have a box of hand dipped chocolates for the hostess, and a small nosegay for Angela..." he held up his wrapped boxes.

"Oh, good!" she exhaled.

"Don't worry, Aunt, it can't be much worse than meeting the Queen," he grinned at her.

"You never told me you met the Queen!" she turned to look at him in astonishment.

"I didn't--just several people close to her. And the Dorkings don't really size up to them at all. I'll see you all later, and you have fun."

"Oh! I never! ...you have a good time too. Jed, I just don't know about that boy!" she laughed as the door chunked shut.

Jed smirked into the rear view mirror then watched as Gene strode up the steps and shut the gate behind him at the top of the walk. "He seems to have his head on pretty straight to me, Agnes. For someone his age especial.... You and I've seen things and we still get amazed at goings on, but he just takes things in stride, you know."

"He looked so handsome in his evening attire. I didn't want to say too much. How did Grandma Wade's saying go? Something about Praise to..."

"Praise to the face, brings open disgrace," Jed finished for her. "I know--I didn't either, because of that very thing...too many folks that think too highly of themselves. There's another Grandma Wade saying--beauty is as beauty does; but ugly goes all the way to the bone..."

"Yes, old adages, but good ones."
**************************************

Gene waited patiently in the impressive foyer while he was announced. This wasn't the first time he had been in the Dorking's home, but it was the first time he had been an invited guest. A large pastoral painting hung in the entrance, and a heavy wooden table held a vase of summer flowers in soft colors accentuated with an occasional vivid blue, or red. Gene peered at his reflection in the well polished sheen of the wood work.

"This way, if you please," the butler indicated the correct room to him.

"Thank you," Gene said.

"So glad you could come," Mrs. Dorking gave him the standard greeting.

"Mrs. Dorking..." he handed her the chocolates with a slight flourish.

"Thank you..." she said and unwrapped the gift. "These are my favorite..."

"And these are for Angela," he handed the young lady her boxed flowers.

"Oh, Gene! How thoughtful!" Angela took the nosegay from its box. "These are so beautiful!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dorking, the only gift I have for you is my pleasant personality," he smiled at his former coach and shook his hand. It was only a year since the Dorkings had moved to the area, but Gene thought Mr. Dorking had aged five years in his appearance. The gray in his dark brown hair gave him a more distinguished look, but the worry lines on his face just made him look older.

"You've made Mrs. Dorking--as well as Angela--happy, and that's worthy of note," he said cordially.

"I say! Is that you Master Gene?" a familiar voice spoke heartily from close behind him.

"What...?! he turned quickly. "Sir Hughes...I didn't know you were in the area!" Gene bowed slightly, "And how long have you been back, sir?"

"We have only been in for a few days. I came in Saturday, and Monsieur Bouchette followed me in on Sunday."

"David mentioned that Le Comte Bouchette was to be arriving for a visit, but I had not understood that you were to come as well."

"Bonsoir, Master Wade," Philip Bouchette grasped Gene's hand in a hearty handshake. "Bonsoir, bonsoir!" he repeated. "You are acquainted with the Monsieur and Madame Dorking, oui?"

"Monsieur was one of my teachers at high school, and the mademoiselle was a school mate," Gene nodded in Angela's direction.

"Ah--a very pleasant mademoiselle...do you not think?" Philip said with a slight lift of the voice as well as an eyebrow.

"Yes, she's very pleasant...a good friend," Gene agreed hoping to head off any more speculation.

"La Mademoiselle has a good eye for her friends then," the count smiled and nodded. "You are looking well also, my young friend. What do you think, Monsieur Hughes?" he nodded in approval.

"Quite dapper, I'd say...Quite dapper indeed," Sir Hughes agreed.

"David Pickerell is hoping that we can have some time while you are here. I have been practicing on some of the arts you introduced me to last year. David and I have some questions --Monsieur Bouchette--Sir Hughes," Gene interrupted himself. "I would like to introduce an acquaintance of mine. Monsieur Le Comte Bouchette, and Lord Hughes, my friend, Edgar Deering. Edgar--Le Comte Bouchette and Lord Hughes."

"Good evening," Edgar made a slight bow to the pair of gentlemen.

"Bonsoir," Philip answered in return.

"Good evening," Sir Hughes echoed.

"Angela prevailed on your good nature also, I see," Gene grinned at Edgar.

"Oh boy!" he stopped embarrassed. "Pardon me, your graces, but do I ever feel like the only fish at a cat supper! Yes, Angela looked so...so..."

"Friendless? So forlorn?" Gene supplied.

"Yes, and now, here I am. Thank God you're here, Gene," Edgar felt like he was drowning in perspiration.

"Oui! Belle demoiselles!" Philip said with a sigh and a slight laugh.

"How have you become acquainted with Mr. and Mrs. Dorking, Sir...if I may ask?"

"You may ask, Master Wade, but we have not at this moment enough time...to answer," Sir Hughes said. "We will have to wait for a convenient season to speak. They are about to announce for the meal."
******************************

"The flower arrangements are very artful. Don't you think?" Edgar made conversation with his dinner partner, Jessica Crest.

"Yes, I suppose so," she replied with a doubtful glance at the flowers.

"And have you had an enjoyable summer?" Gene asked Eileen Cantor, his partner.

"Yes, we spent several weeks vacationing at the shore," Eileen was accustomed to society--more so than Jessica. "And yourself?"

"We have had a busy summer, but we aren't vacationing this year. Maybe next summer. Do you go to the beach every year, then?"

"Most every year. Mother has an Aunt that resides in the area. We go and visit her, then rent a cabin."

Gene observed the menagerie of eighteen guests. There were the few of his acquaintances from his school days, and two older couples he knew from around town. Sir Hughes had brought his sister, Nellie, but Gene did not know Philip Bouchette's Lady Jane. Then there was a smart looking older couple that Gene surmised must be the parents of the young man Angela was seated with. A young man possibly twenty years old, light brown hair, quiet and well mannered...and well polished.

How odd, each pair seemed to be a quiet conversation to themselves, almost whispering to each other.

"Do you ever think that we take ourselves a trifle too seriously?" Gene asked Eileen with a sideways glance.

"Too seriously? Whatever do you mean?"

"We are sitting around an impressive table. Everyone in fine apparel. Eating sumptuous food. And whispering about the weather."

"We weren't talking about the weather--"

"Well, not exactly the weather, but just--chit chat, you know. Nothing important."

"That's what we're supposed to be talking about..." she puzzled.

"Now, when the men go off by themselves they break out the brandy and cigars, you know, and talk about important stuff. I don't know what the ladies talk about, but here we just talk about the--weather."

"Oh, I see...and what should we be talking about?"

"What would come to your mind? What are you interested in?"

"I'm crazy to go to the World's Fair in Paris," animation lit her face. I've never been to Paris...only the shore," she sighed, the light faded out of her features.

"We were in Paris last year...but had to cut it short to make it home for the trial. Did you hear about Picasso's painting?" he asked.

"No, I hadn't heard anything about it..." her features revived.

"It isn't something we talk about in polite society, because it may offend the ladies."

"Gene Wade! You are so aggravating! I'm thinking Greg Bilker is right, you are a coward!"

"I can handle you," he said smoothly even though anger flushed his face.

"So what does that prove, I'm a girl?"

"If I can handle you, I can handle him."

"But I'm a girl...oh," she drug out the last word. "You are comparing Greg to a girl? But he did a job last week on Lonnie Smith...Lonnie was in the hospital you know."

"Yes, I know, but Greg doesn't fight fair. He had his 'boys' with him. Four, or five guys against one person isn't really fair, now is it?"

"Hmmm!" Angela cleared her throat and flashed him a look.

"Eileen?" he wondered had their voices gotten too loud?

"Yes?" she whispered demurely.

"My apologies," he smiled.

"That is why we're supposed to talk about the weather," she smiled back.

"I know, but just think how interesting it could get," he smiled and bent his head back over his soup.

"Have you been traveling much, Sir Hughes?" William Dorking asked.

"Just the usual amount. My sister, Nellie, and I were in Paris at the World's fair for several weeks. Le Comte met up with us one fine afternoon..."

"The world's fair has been in the paper lately. What was your impression of it," Mr. Dorking said.

"Very interesting. It's very interesting," Sir Hughes was non-committal.

"I've heard several things said about it. Some very interesting things...will you be in this area for long?"

"Only a few weeks. I usually try to get back to my park twice a year. This year has been very trying...very difficult to get away from London. Oh--Master Gene," he leaned slightly in Gene's direction. "I bring greetings from your Aunt Louise. We were at the Palace together one evening at an engagement...she indicated that her mother and she were so pleased to have met you last year. Mrs. La Font will be home in a few weeks and was thinking of extending an invitation to your Aunt and Uncle."

"Uncle Jed was ill last winter...he is doing better, but I'm sure the vacation would be good for him."

"Your Aunt Agnes? And little sister? How are they?"

"They are doing well, thank you," Gene replied.
*******************************

"I would like you to meet an old friend of the family," Angela introduced her dinner partner to her young guests. "This is Walter Henrey. He and his family have known my family for as long as I can remember. Walter, these are some of my new acquaintances, Eileen Cantor, Jessica Crest, Edgar Deering, and Gene Wade."

"Harvey," Angela called the butler, "would you bring us the domino game, please?"

"I guess we don't get the brandy and cigars," Eileen snickered.

"Brandy and cigars! I should hope not!" Angela was shocked.

"I'm sorry, that was my fault," Gene explained. "That is what the men do in Europe. The ladies go off and discuss things in their group, but the men go off and break out the brandy and cigars, and discuss things like politics, and what is going on in the House of Lords, or Parliament, or whatever."

"And we will be playing dominoes...however, that's alright. They make the policies, and we play the games," Walter said in an even voice.

"Have you been to Europe, then?" Gene asked. There was a steady presence, a sort of dignity in the young man, and Gene liked that.

"Yes, I have," Walter answered as they set out the tiles. "I have a brother and sister overseas, and we go once a year to visit."

"Did you attend the Olympics last year?"

"Yes, father enjoys sports. I'm not into sports myself, but do find an occasional interest."

"I would so love to go to Paris," Eileen sighed. "What about you Angelina--I mean Angela. Would you like to go to Paris?"

"I think I've been to Paris, but I don't remember it. It was when I was quite small." Angela frowned at the tiles she had in front of her. "Whose turn is it?"

"I believe it's mine," Walter put out his tile.

"Your brother and sister must be quite a bit older than you are. I don't remember either of them," Angela found a place for her tile.

"I'd just as soon stay here in the good old U S of A," Edgar said.

"I'm going to have to go home in a few minutes," Jessica pouted.

"It's still daylight outside. Almost too early to go home," Gene flashed her a smile.

"I know, but my family will be picking me up soon."

"Make the best of the time you have, Jessi," Edgar encouraged. "That's a good play there."

"Thank you, Edgar," she smiled at him. The tension in her face relaxed. At Edgar's praise Jessica gained a measure of self confidence, and color transformed her drab everyday appearance into loveliness.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Jessica put her last tile out. "I won!" she exclaimed. The game went smoothly with small talk here and there.

"Good job, Jessica," Angela smiled. "--Yes? Harvey?" the library door opened.
"Miss Crest's car is waiting, Miss Angela."

"Don't forget now, Jessi," Edgar leaned over and whispered to her, "thank your host and hostess for a lovely evening on your way out."

"Thank you, Edgar. I get so flustered. I just forget everything."

"I know how it is. I remember my first dinner like this."

"Thank you so much for inviting me, Angela. I've had a good time. If we'd had time I'm sure you would have won the next game..." she leaned over and gave Angela a hug.

"Jessica's really a nice girl," Angela spoke to the group as they watched her exit. "I don't think she gets a fair deal at school."

"I always thought she was an empty headed nincompoop. No one else at school really likes her, but her father does have lots of money," Eileen's eyes held an unusual scheming look. "Maybe she's not so bad."

"I'd like a little fresh air...perhaps we could take a walk in the garden?" Angela suggested.

"I don't like fresh air that much..." Eileen began.

"I wouldn't mind a little stretching after our meal," Walter agreed.

"We'll be there in a minute," he called as Angela led Walter and Eileen to the exit. "Ed, come here," Gene guided Edgar over to stand at the bay window as if looking out at the street. just about dusk with an occasional pedestrian walking down the street.

"Quiet out tonight. The street lights will be coming on in a short time."

"Yes--but what is it. What did you want?"

"Ed--Eileen's pretty thick with Greg Bilker and some of his friends. Jessica is a nice person, but she's naive. Maybe you could be a little watchful for her...not too much, maybe but you know?"

"If you knew Eileen was close with Greg, why did you say..."

Gene shrugged, "Well, it's the truth. On both accounts. Greg is a capable fighter, but he doesn't fight fair...especially if he knows he won't win. Just keep an eye on things, okay?"

"Sure, Gene. I can do that..."

"Let's go join the group," Gene led the way to the garden entrance.

"Paris is just so romantic," Eileen said.

"Romance is elusive," Walter replied. "It isn't really any more romantic in Paris, than here in Littleton."

"It has to be," Eileen wrinkled her nose. "Littleton is so dull. Most of the time at least."

"I don't know if I would call it dull, exactly," Angela said.

"Of course it isn't dull for you, Angela. Look at all the people you have coming and going in your world. But we never have company, especially not interesting company," she gave Walter a coquettish smile.

"Don't you think the warmth of the summer evening brings out the fragrance of the flowers?" Gene winked at Angela.

"Yes, I do, and I think it is a little warm this evening," she grinned at him. "Eileen, is that your ride I hear?" she asked as a horn sounded -ahooga!

Eileen's face flushed deep red--"I think it's probably just some dumb bell..."

"I'd say it's some dumb bell..." Gene muttered under his breath. "Are you staying at the hotel?" he asked Walter.

"No, we are staying here at Angela's home. We'll be here another week, I believe."

"Perhaps when we entertain Sir Hughes and Monsieur Bouchette you would like to join us?" Gene suggested. "What are your interests, if not sports?"

"I do play chess--rather well. I enjoy playing sports, but I'm not much at watching."

"Are you sure that isn't your ride, Eileen?" Angela repeated when the hateful Aa--ooga, sounded again.

"I'm sure it isn't...but I think I should telephone home to see if my car has been sent," Eileen stood up from the stone bench she was perched on. "Thank you for the invitation, Angela. So good to meet you, Walter, and good night Edgar and Gene."

"I do believe Eileen is irritated at someone," Angela laughed as the door closed.

"With good reason. Greg Bilker is a...no one likes him except those who like his money, or what it can buy," Edgar chimed in.

"Gene why were you saying those things about Greg?" Angela's face wore a pained expression. "You know Eileen will repeat everything you said, and that's just asking for trouble!"

"Angela, I have a plan...I know it could be a costly mistake--look what he did to Lonnie," Gene shook his head.

"I'm concerned about you," Angela bit her lip, looking down at her handkerchief laying in her lap.

"Thank you.

"Who is this guy you are talking about?" Walter asked.

"He's no good," Edgar spoke up. "And he's usually up to no good!

"He drives the car with the horn. He and his cronies have been out on our country road lately," Gene said.

"Oh--that's not good," Angela looked up startled.

"A few weeks ago some local fellows were having a horse race...informal, you know, just boys racing their ponies. That cursed automobile came along and caused Albert Bluey--one of the guys racing--caused his filly to bolt. Dumped him, he ended up going to the doctor with a cracked rib."

"I hadn't heard about that," Edgar's face grew pale.

"You wouldn't. News from out in the country usually stays there unless it's really big. Albert's pa went to the sheriff and complained. Seems like 'the citified slicks' as Mr. Bluey calls them, have been tormenting more than one farmer and their livestock. Mr. Bluey lodged a complaint...tried to press charges, but they can't get him on anything I guess."

"What do you think he's after...? Walter puzzled over the information.

"I just think he likes to push other people around," Edgar said. "I'm no threat to him, but I still stay clear."

"Back when I was on the football team...a year ago now...I did some driving for Mr. Dorking. Greg, was resentful. I told him to buzz off and get lost. Lonnie had words with him as well. We're both on his favorite list."

"What are you young folks looking so glum about?" Mr. Henrey came around the Camellia bed. He stood looking amused at the group, tapping his walking cane occasionally on the red brick path.

"Just a local hooligan, Father."

"Never seems to be a shortage of them in the world, is there?" his smile was tired and resigned. "But what do you say," the older man brightened out of his reverie, "we're thinking of going up town to the hotel restaurant for some French coffee and we could catch the entertainment as well."

"Entertainment? How gay!" Angela brightened. "How about you Gene...and Edgar?"

"I may be needed..." Edgar hedged.

"And I would need to telephone my family first. They are over at Bessie's brother's," Gene told Angela.

"You do your telephoning, and we'll make further arrangements," Mr. Henrey continued walking toward the house door.

"I need to run up to my room and get my wrap..."

"And I need to visit my room as well, for my hat and other accessories," Walter and Angela excused themselves.

"Hello," Gene spoke to the operator, "Mr. Lewiston, please...yes, that's the correct number..."

"I didn't plan on..."

"Edgar, don't worry about money," Gene covered the mouth piece on the phone. "I'll get it. Yes--Jim, this is Gene, is Uncle Jed there?"

"We have several taxis commandeered," Mr. Henrey came into the foyer. "You young people can ride together, and we'll meet up town at the Littleton Hotel."

"I don't know how I'll ever be able to go back to the shop tomorrow," Edgar grinned at Gene as they entered the fancy hotel dining room.

"Same way I'll get up tomorrow put on my bibs, and go back to plowing...actually I'll be working on the last cutting of hay for this year."

Gene inspected the hotel dining room as the group waited. The extravagant white table cloths, the fancy silver ware and white china table settings--No, there was not much change in the few years since Gene had left employment at the hotel. Everything was sparkling and elegant.

"Mr. Wappleburg--how have you been?" he spoke to his former manager.

"I am doing well. Thank you for asking," Mr. Wappleburg enjoyed the notoriety of being around rich and elegant people. "And you are looking well. I trust your fortunes are improving?" he observed Gene and his associates.

"They are doing as good as can be expected, thank you. My family will be joining me shortly as well..." Gene thought how good it was to say, 'my family'. He sat back watching the people around him. It was a carefree moment as the group ordered coffee and some ordered desserts with laughter and easy natured conversation.

Jed, Agnes, and Nissa stood, framed in the doorway waiting to be escorted to a table.

"This should be a special treat. I'm tickled that you invited us," Jed leaned over and whispered to Gene after he had seated Agnes and Nissa.

Lord Hughes and Monsieur Bouchette talked quietly while Lady Jane and Nellie exchanged pleasantries. Mr. and Mrs. Dorking did not look at ease as they sat on the other side of the table beside Mr. and Mrs. Henrey.

It was an odd twist of fate that Sir Hughes and Monsieur Bouchette were the least conscious of rank and title. They moved freely from one situation to another with confidence and grace. Mr. and Mrs. Henrey had a genteel way of manner as well, but there was a difference...Gene supposed it was the American influence.

Lord Hughes motioned to the waiter and whispered to him briefly.

The waiter approached Jed's table, "The gentleman at that table requests for you join their party, if it is convenient."

"Why...certainly--do you mind?" Jed looked across the table at Agnes.

"It would be a pleasure, I'm sure," Agnes smiled serenely. "Come, Nissa," she said. Picking up her hand bag, she took Nissa's hand and they followed Jed to their new seats as if it were an everyday occurrence to sit and chat with aristocrats.

"This coffee is very strong," Angela frowned at the mixture in her cup. "I don't usually drink coffee...so, what do you think?" she held up her cup and showed Walter then Gene.

"A little more cream then, perhaps?" Gene laughed into his napkin.

"Or chocolate instead?" Walter suggested with a slight shrug as they both bent over and peered into her coffee cup.

"Oh!" she stifled a gasp.

Startled, Gene and Edgar gazed across the packed room where several people waited to be seated.

"I don't know where they are going to be seated," Edgar said, "there doesn't appear to be any more seats."

"I don't see any more seats either. It looks as if we got here just in time. I think Ed's right, they won't get a seat," Gene looked across Angela at Walter.

"Who's that?"

"If you look across the room," Gene instructed nonchalantly looking at Walter, "toward the big picture window--just casually--under the letter 'O' in HOTEL--you will observe the scoundrel we were discussing earlier. A fellow by the name of Greg Bilker...and some of his friends...and look, Angela, isn't that..."

"Eileen..." Angela whispered.

s38 Onward, Still Onward

2010-11-05T15:25:00.003-05:00

"Man, that is born of a woman, Is of few days, and full of trouble," David quoted. "Job chapter fourteen and verse one tells us that."

"I know that," Gene shook his head. "But I sure am tired of all the...contention and fighting, and...I'm just tired of it! Seems like I want to be peaceable, but all the time somebody's always wanting to argue and fight! How in Jonah's whale do I avoid it?"

"I suppose you've tried..."

"Yeah, just walk away. That's what Uncle Jed says. It doesn't work...look at this black eye and tell me how well that works!" he scowled at his friend and made a hard left swing at the punching bag.

"I'd say it didn't work too well. Hmm," David rubbed his chin in thought. "I guess when you put it that way...another scripture comes to mind as well.

"Another scripture?"

"Yes, Romans chapter twelve verse eighteen says, If it be possible, as much as in you lieth, be at peace with all men."

"How does that fit? Instead of walking away do I need to walk faster?"

"The key here is--if it be possible, as much as it lieth with you--. You see, Gene, with some people it isn't possible to be at peace. If you read in First Kings chapter twenty, Ben-ha-dad sent to King Ahab and wanted all of his treasures. King Ahab said, 'Okay, it's yours,' but Ben-ha-dad sent again and wanted more than what he'd demanded the first time. King Ahab calls the elders together and says, 'look how this man seeketh mischief.' Some people are like that. You can bend over backwards to make them happy, and they just won't be."

"I sent Angela to talk to you and Bessie. I'm not even involved in this, but because she's been coming to church with you two I guess he thinks Angela and I are 'seeing' each other."

"Well, you do see each other, but as friends. People like Greg don't understand friendship."

"He has an automobile to drive, money to spend, and a few guys that follow around with him. I guess that's what he calls friends."

"I tell you what, I think we have some work to do. Let's get busy...and hey, you'll never guess who's coming for a visit in a couple of weeks..." David said holding the other side of the bag. "Start by giving this old punching bag the old 'one-two' business--watch your foot work now."

"I'm not real good at the guessing game...who's coming for a visit..." he began counting and punching.
*******************************************

"How is your mother doing, Spike?" Gene asked as they were filing out of church.

"Since I've been working regular she's been doing much better. Willie and Sam are stationed out in California. They're doing good. Real good. Ma was worried sick you know when they were threatened with charges after the trial. You know it all worked out though. They got enlisted, and them drill instructors...it turned their lives around."

"Yeah, I knew it went pretty hard on her. How about yourself, what are you going to do now?"

"I'm driving for the cannery and that's working well. Though I'm thinking of going to work for the airplane factory."

"We'd sure miss you. You would have to move wouldn't you?"

"Yes. I'd move Ma with me of course. With Pa gone--she doesn't have much to stay here for--I suppose I'd better be leaving," he turned to go as Angela approached.

"No, Spike, don't go..." Gene caught his arm. "Hello, Angela. Have you met Spike? This is Angela Dorking, --Spike...and Angela this is Spike Potter."

"Ah, hello miss...Miss Dorking," Spike turned scarlet, and sputtered. "Ah, glad to meet you. I was just leaving, so..."

"Oh no you don't," Gene laughed and spun Spike back around. "Angela, this is the most shy fellow. For all his size he's pretty much a lot of bluff!"

"Any friend of Gene's is a friend of mine," She held out her hand and smiled up at the homely face of Spike.

Gene noticed the genteel way Angela had of putting people at ease. He had also witnessed her ability to put others in their place when they stepped out of bounds.

"Good morning," Spike took his leave after a few moments of pleasant conversation, "Guess I'll see you later, Gene. You too, Miss, if you come this afternoon..." he touched the brim of his hat--this time without the inclination of the flight mode.

"Gene, I wanted to ask you a favor," Angela waited until Spike was out of earshot.

"I won't promise anything, but ask away," Gene said.

"Mother is giving a dinner party, and she wants me to ask a few of my friends."

"Angela," he hesitated.

"Gene, you're the best friend I have. I don't like these dinner parties, and I...I suppose you're busy," she answered with a resigned shrug. "I was just hopeful."

"If it means that much to you,"

"It's next Tuesday, if you could come?" hope had flamed back into her face.

"Yes, I'll come. Only if it makes you happy. I'm sure your mother will think I'm out of place," he scowled.

"Mostly Mother's dinner parties are very boring. People her age--her cronies from bridge--and father's friends. People that will advance their careers, or some such thing," she made a sour face.

"We certainly don't travel in the same circles, but c'est la vie."

"You have such a funny way of saying things..." Angela wrinkled her nose. "I never did do well in Latin, but thank you so much! I'll have Mother put your name down, and you'll receive your invitation tomorrow. I'll see you later!"

Angela felt like weights had fallen from her feet. She sat in the back of the Pickerell's Hudson. Her heart kept singing with joy. She did find those dinner parties hateful, but at least this one would be different. She leaned back against the gray upholstery. Thank you God, she repeated over several times. She had found friends in David and Bessie, and she enjoyed so much the lessons from the pulpit, but she enjoyed being able to watch Gene in his own world.

"Ready to go home?" David called in through the open door as he scooted little Eric in the front seat between himself and Bessie.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Pickerell."

"Are you comfortable, Bessie?" he said helping her get situated.

"Yes, David," she said easing into position. It was close to her time of confinement before their second child was to make its arrival. This time she had no close friend who was also waiting, no one to anticipate with. She sighed as the door clunked shut.

"You look very tired, Mrs. Pickerell," Angela was brought out of her joyful haze with a jolt. "Are you alright?"

"I am tired, Angela, but I believe I am alright," she spoke with a smile and a reassurance.

Angela watched the church yard as other families exited the building and found their vehicles. An older couple were the last people out. They shut the door and turned the key in the lock. There were all ages here, even several young ladies the same age, or very close to, Angela's age.

Angela watched as Deidre Suko walked primly to her father's auto, and remembered the first Sunday she had met Deidre and her sister Sandra. She laughed at herself thinking how she had been slightly jealous of the two girls. It was not because they dressed better than Angela, but that Gene was so friendly and well acquainted with them.

"I hope you enjoyed your morning. Are you planning on attending this afternoon as well?" David made conversation.

"If you don't mind picking me up I would like to come."

"We can do that. We have singing this afternoon, so we should be by about five thirty. Will that be alright?"

"Yes," Angela hesitated slightly. She had forgotten about the singing. "Mother leaves for her bridge group about that time, but it should be alright."

"Angela, are you having...difficulty at home over your church attendance?"

"Only slightly," she said picking at her lace gloves.

"Would you like for me to come visit with your parents? Do you think it would help?"

"I don't know that anything will help," she blurted out. "They see themselves as more progressive, more advanced, and...I don't think there is any way to convince them different, Mr. Pickerell."

David could see the trouble in Angela's eyes as they looked at each other in the rear view mirror. That was one of her striking qualities, she was honest at heart. He found that to be ironic when he compared her to her parents who were two of the most self-centered and self serving people he knew.

"I tell you what. Bessie and I will lift you up especial in prayer. I'm sure all will work out well. It may take a day or two, but God watches over us all. We must have faith."

"You have a good afternoon, now," Bessie smiled over her shoulder at Angela. "Remember, we're praying for you."

"Thank you. Thank you so much," the troubled look was still on Angela's face as she slid out of the back seat. "I need those prayers," she took a deep breath, and closing the automobile door, she clutched her small white purse even tighter.

As they drove off down the street she walked up the steps from the sidewalk to their yard, through the gate in the white picket fence....

David turned at the corner and pulled up to the curb. "Let's have one of those prayers right now, Bessie. I'm so concerned for that young lady. I feel somehow that she is walking into the lion's den."
**********************************************

"Angela, when I said you should invite some friends for the dinner I didn't mean...well look here," Angela's mother angrily shook the invitation list at her. "I did not mean friends like Edgar Deering--and Gene Wade. Eileen Cantor--the banker's daughter and Jessica Crest--her father owns the new dry goods store in town-- well, they're good choices, but Edgar Deering! and Gene Wade! Just common..."

"Mother, can't I have even two of my own choice for friends? Not even two?"

"I've never liked the church you've been so adamant about attending lately. Mostly low class common folks. They're just greedy. They don't care about you...all they are looking for is your money. "

"My money?" Angela's eyes opened wide as she stared at her mother in astonishment. "What do you mean my...money?"

"Well," her mother stalled, "I mean look at your social class. Look at your father and I, and our social standing."

"Oh. I see," Angela's eyes narrowed slightly. There were a few ancient memories floating in her mind that were resurrected as she considered her mother's words. "But, Mother, it's only two people, surely they won't bother. And I would so like to have them." She smiled sweetly at her mother.

"I have important guests coming..."

"Only two..." she continued to wheedle.

"Only this once...I suppose," her mother gave in with a sigh. I could just kick myself for that slip, she thought. Angela's no dummy, and...
*************************

"Gene, I think you've grown another foot since last summer!"

"Oh, no, Aunt. That's not possible," he peeked around the parlor door which had been transformed into her sewing room for the next few weeks.

"I'm sure of it--look here are your measurements from last year--and here are the ones I just took--"

"I couldn't have grown another foot--look," he said standing in the door way. "Just look here, I still only have two feet--"

"Ha! Ha! Ha!" Uncle Jed guffawed from behind him in the living room. "He sure got you on that one, Agnes!"

"Oh, you two! Like two peas in a pod!" she rolled her eyes good-natured at their foolishness. "It won't take me long to have your clothes ready for tomorrow evening, but I'm still thinking I need to put a rock on your head!"

"What's that girl want you to come to dinner for anyhow?" Jed looked up from reading his paper. "You two don't even belong in the same social circles. We don't take to them parties and card playin' stuff," his forehead creased with his frown.

"I think she just needs a friend, Uncle..."

"Now, Jed, don't go giving the boy a hard time. He's almost sixteen. In a couple of years he'll be looking for a wife. You know we were young once too..."

"I hear Nissa waking up--I'll run up and get her up..." Gene left the two adults talking.

"Well, sixteen isn't eighteen, and eighteen isn't twenty-one--and he needs a good steady young lady. Not some body from uptown, who don't know how to do nothing. I bet she doesn't even know how to clean her house."

"Angela seems to be a nice young girl...not flighty like some I've seen," Agnes smiled thinking back on her own sisters, and some of the current young girls she knew.

"That's so," he said turning the page, "she's very helpful to Bessie. Pays attention to what's going on around her. Not like them bubble headed Gnash girls. Still, I bet she can't clean a house, nor make a meal."

"She doesn't need to. That's what they have their cook and the maid for. Ouch!" Agnes stuck her finger. "If I hadn't had Grandma Wade I wouldn't have had any training either...maybe she won't ever need to do cooking or cleaning...don't know that any of my sisters ever learned."

"Agnes..." Jed looked up from his paper, his reading glasses poised on the tip of his aquiline nose, "do you?"

"Oh, Jed!" she exclaimed in exasperation.

"I know, I know," he said with a grin. "Did I ever tell you just how gorgeous you are?"

"Jedidiah Wade did I ever tell you just how aggravating you are?"

"Nissa's done with her nap," Gene brought the baby downstairs. "I'll take her outside for a few minutes of play."

Agnes waited until the two had gone outside. "Look how good he is with Nissa..." she laughed. "Jed, I don't think Gene's serious about Angela. I think he's right-- she does need a friend, and that's all there is to it."

"That maybe so, but her coming to church of a sudden--looks a little suspicious."

"Bessie told me she and David have been praying pretty hard for her. They're concerned. When Dorkings first came to town remember how they were so friendly...until they found out where their bread would best be buttered."

"I've never figured out how they live so well on a teacher's salary."

"I'm sure they must have come from money somewhere."

"Well, they sure can spend it. Angela doesn't dress like a slouch."

"Jed!"

"I think it's time for me to go push Nissa in the swing..." he said laying his paper aside. "Before I get myself into that hot water," he folded his reading glasses up and laid them on the shelf above the clock.

Thoughts chased around in Agnes' mind as Nissa's laughter echoed from outside. Jed's words would not leave her alone. No, it was not wrong to dress in the latest fashions--as long as they were decent and modest. Scenes flashed through her thoughts. Agnes had caught Angela looking at Gene when she thought no one else would notice. Angela did not mingle with others from church, at least in the beginning she was more reserved. None of these things meant anything, really...or did they? What was it David always stressed? Pray about it...I'm going to ask Bessie what she thinks about this situation--Agnes decided. And pray about it.

s37 Onward Time Flies

2010-10-31T23:42:00.002-05:00

The wind, the wind, streaming through Garnet's mane, and rushing in his face. He could smell salty horse perspiration, feel the smooth roughness of the horse's coat, and hear his hooves beating on the ground as he ate up the furlongs.

"Easy now," he gave a slight tug at the reins as a signal. "Easy now," he felt a slackening of Garnet's pace. They came to a stop at the end of the road. "Good run, boy," he caressed and patted the horse's neck. "Sure gonna be hard to turn you back to Mr. Goodnite," he said with regret. He thought on the hours he and Garnet had spent in training. "You're sure a good ole horse," he sighed with a final pat.

Mitch and Ike Stroll rode up alongside Albert Bluey.

"Betcha our ponies could out run your ol' mare, Albert." The Stroll boys were always looking for a race. Their ponies could almost fly, and they were always looking for a new match. Albert's family had just moved to the area and was an untried target.

Albert bristled with indignation. "Old mare," he said smoothing his hand over his filly's silky neck. "Why your ponies'd have to hump themselves to come within a mile of beating Bess here," he spat on the dusty road. "After all they are just ponies."

The day was full of work, and the boys liked to snatch a few moments of fun where they could. Sometimes they would meet down by the bridge at the old swimming hole, but lately since the addition of the Stroll's, and the Bluey's to the area the habit of racing their horses and ponies had taken their fancy.

"Avery...Trevor, you two come start us off," Mitch called to a couple of the boys that had gathered in the shade of the old cottonwood tree at the corner of the roads. "We'll race down to across from the school house there," he waved toward a distant goal.

"Give Randy and Don time ta run down and make a mark in the dirt," Howard said. "You two run on down there...here let me give you a leg up," he helped his younger brother up on their mule.

Don grabbed Randy's hand and using Randy's foot for a stirrup threw himself up on the back of the old mule. The old mule trotted down the mile to the finish line. The boys made a mark in the road then Don waved his old felt hat high in the air.

Mitch and Ike held their ponies in place while Albert sat on a slightly nervous Bess. He spoke to her as she pranced in place, and at the last got her soothed.

Some observers followed Don and Randy down to the finish line and waited there, while the others stood up from where they sprawled in the farm driveway and ditch along side the road.

"Alright, when I count to three, I'll holler 'now', and drop my hat! One, two, three--now!"

They were off as his hat dropped. Through the cloud of dust, they could see Bess hesitate at the start.

"Come on, Bess! Come on Bess," the boys cheered her on.

She reared and leaped into a bolt to catch the ponies. She wound up and passed them like they were running in place. As they neared the school house line she was far enough ahead there was not even dust for them to swallow...and she was still winding up.

"Whoop! Hurrah! Yeah!" the boys cheered. Mitch and Ike Stroll were not good winners, and they had rubbed salt in the wounds of every one they had won against.

Another cloud of dust appeared coming from the south.

Where was Albert and Bess? No one moved, no one shouted, fear gripped their voices.

Aahooga, aahooga! came the hated sound. The auto kept on bouncing along the road. Not stopping, not even slowing down it rolled by the two groups of boys. Everyone scrambled for their mounts and raced toward where the automobile had first been spotted.

"Albert's over here," Don called as the boys ran up.

"How is he?" several chorused as they slid off of their horses and onto the ground.

"Stand back--stand back..." he's comin' around."

"Where's the horse?" Sammy Summers looked up and around from where Albert lay in the ditch.

"She went that-a-way," Randy Trevor said with a wave on up the road.

"We better send someone to find her," Howard said as he gave Alfred a drink of water out of his canteen. "We'll find her Al. Don't worry none. She'll be all right," he said words to convince himself as much as the prostrate boy.

****************************************************

Gene looked up from the ditch he was mowing. He spied the dust from what appeared to be a automobile coming his way, and was glad that he was just a stone's throw from the driveway to the house.

"Get along now!" he slapped the team with the lines. He pulled the mower bar up, swung across the road, and swept into the farmstead lane.

Ah-ooga!

Ah-, he thought disgusted, ooga yourself! He had heard that fool thing more lately than he cared to. He pulled up in front of the barn.

"You aren't overdoing yourself are you?" he called out to his uncle.

"No, I just got out here. I've been working in the shop here doing a little wood working."

Gene backed the mower up, "Whoa!" and the team stood still as he climbed off. "I'm fixing to take the scythe out to the road bank. There's a few thistles that I need to get rid of..."

"Here, let me take Sal and Barney in and unhitch them and get them watered."

"The harness is too heavy for you, but you can take them on to water for me," Gene lifted the heavy harnesses one at a time and hung them on the pegs at the end of the horse stalls.

"I'm not quite useless," Jed frowned in frustration.

"No, Uncle Jed, you're getting stronger every day. Don't fret yourself," Gene lifted the scythe down from where it hung. He stopped, leaned on the scythe and looked his uncle in the eye. "You have to be patient with your self. Remember David's lesson from Sunday. That's the person we have the most trouble with."

"I am getting stronger, that's true. David's right at that isn't he, boy," he said with an agreeable smile.

The work was about done as Gene stopped and wiped the sweat from his forehead with a sleeve. He looked down the road bank and spied another thistle just a few steps further and that should be... He squinted down the road. What would Albert Bluey's horse be doing out grazing along the roadside for? He leaned his scythe against the fence post.

"Easy now, girl," he spoke soothingly as he neared the animal. He pulled some grass and held it out in a friendly gesture. "Easy now," he stopped as she shied away from his approach. She stopped then and let him walk up to her side. "Good girl!" he patted her neck and gentle, before she realized it, he scooped up the reins.

"Come on ole girl, let's see if we can figure out where you came from," he said and she followed him down the road. "Pears to me there's been some foul play here..."

It was not much farther that he spied Kenny, Howard's youngest brother trotting toward him.

Careful not to spook the filly he raised his hand in salute.

"Hello, there, Kenny! What're you doing? Easy,now, girl," he comforted the horse as her head came up and her eyes began to roll.

"You found her!"

"Hey! Hey! Walk careful now," he warned Kenny as he came closer. "No, she found me."

"She left Alfred back there a-ways...got spooked...fool automobile..." he panted.

"Okay, slow down. We'll walk her back. How far is it?"

"Not far. Just down by the school house."

"Yeah, I see them down in that dip there."

"Alfred and Mitch and Ike were havin' a race. Alfred's horse here left them boys behind like nothing else! I never seen anything like it! It was great!" Kenny grinned as he related the story. They walked a little way in silence then he looked side ways at Gene and repeated. "It was great!"

"They met their match then?" he grinned back.

"Yeah, it sure was. I do wish you'd race your Injun pony agin' 'em. I know he'd beat 'em hands down too!"

"I don't want Bobby to get riled up...but maybe some day," they were almost to where the boys had Albert sitting up.

"How's he doin'" Kenny called.

"Not sure...he's just getting his breath back," Don answered. "Good, you found the horse. You can rest easy now, Al."

"Gene found her, then he found me."

"She appears to be fine. Not favoring any thing," Gene bent and checked the horse's legs and feet. "No, she should be alright. So, what happened anyway? Kenny said there was a race?"

"Oh, man! Gene ya should'a seen it! Mitch and Ike," Don stopped speaking to point out the boys, "Where'd they go?" he asked the rest of the boys.

"Don't know," Sammy shrugged. "Don't remember see'n them after the auto passed us."

"Albert, that Bess sure can run!" Don grinned at Albert.

"She should be able to, that's what she's bred to do." His long pale dust smeared face broke into a big smile.

"Ha, ha! What a joke on Mitch and Ike. It appears that they are worse losers than they are winners...can you get up?" Don asked. "Be real careful now."

Albert winced in pain as he tried to move. "No," he said easing back, "Just give me a few more minutes," he took another swig of the canteen. "She took the bit, and was runnin' flat out when that dadburn auto came flyin' right at us. Of course she spooked and I went sliddin' off...okay, let's try again."

Albert gritted his teeth and this time he made it to a standing position.

"Oh, howdy! I'm glad Bess is alright, though. Dad'd have my hide if anything had happened to her!" He stood gasping for air. "Hope nothin's broke," Albert leaned against his horse to steady himself.

"Who are the dudes in the automobile? Seems like I've seen them before?" Don asked.

"I've seen them around lately too," Howard frowned. "City slickers from town I suppose. Do you know who it is Gene? You've spent more time around the town than most of us..."

"I used to play on the football team with at least one of them. Greg Bilker, his dad owns the garage in town. Apparently has more money than he has sense. I don't know who any of the others are," Gene answered.

"Too bad Mitch and Ike left so quick," Howard snickered. "That was some race, Alfred. You feeling any better yet?"

"I guess I'll be alright. I'd better be headin' for home, I've been longer than I intended." He groaned as he put a foot in the stirrup. "Give me a push up will you?"

With a heave the boys helped him into the saddle, and watched as he turned toward home.

"Hope he's all right," Don frowned, and turned back to his horse.

"Yeah, he must of hit pretty hard when he landed," Sammy said.

"Those fools in that auto. Someone needs to turn them in. You suppose the sheriff'd do something about them?"

"Naw...what could he do?"

"There isn't much the law could do...unless maybe they saw something as it happened. I need to get back to work too, I suppose. I'll see you later," Gene turned toward home.

"Hey, Gene let me give you a ride on home," Howard called.

"That's a big mule, but three to a mule is too much, Howard. It's not far...I'll see you tomorrow at Mr. Goodnite's."

"Come on, Gene, Sammy's little, and we get more'n three on old Blue here all the time."

"Oh, all right...just be careful there Sammy...don't go kicking him in the flank now!" Gene got situated and helped Sammy up.

"So what's going on with your old football buddy?" Howard asked.

"I don't know, Howard. Guess he thinks I'm horning in on his territory or something."

"What an idiot!" Howard snorted.

"He's got his eye on a certain young lady, and she doesn't like him. Couldn't be that there's anything wrong with him you know. Sit still Sammy, we're almost to where I left my scythe."

"Is it Angela?"

"Yes. He's been jealous over her since last year. Slide off so I can get off, and I'll help you back up, Sammy," Gene gave the youngster a hand down then carefully slid off himself. "You want to come on up to the house? Aunt has some fresh baked cookies...I'm sure she would share," he grinned up at the two boys on the mule.

"Would we like some fresh baked cookies? You bet!"

"Some guys are just sore losers," Howard and Sammy rode Blue down the lane as Gene walked beside them.

"That's true, but Angela doesn't like him. He's not..." Gene hesitated trying to think what it was Angela didn't like about Greg.

"He's not you," Howard guffawed at Gene.

"I don't think that's what...,"

"Every other word out of Ruthie's mouth is to sing your praise, and she's not the only one. Some of the other girls at school--according to rumors--thought you were the cat's meow," Howard interrupted.

Gene's face turned crimson. "You've been listening to stories, Howard, and you're plumb crazy. Let me put this idiot stick back in the barn while you tie Blue to the fence.

"Have you been fishing this spring, Howard?" Jed asked as the boys drank their milk and ate a handful of oatmeal cookies each.

"Been too busy, sir. Don't know why," his face clouded as he considered the last year. "It's a wonder we're still here. the heat and the grasshoppers last year about did us in."

"Yeah, it has been tough, but I got a letter from one of my brothers the other week. He's been traveling all over the country and says cities aren't a good place to be. Twenty men looking for the same job he says. I'll stay here in the country. At least the air's clean and I know my neighbors."

"We have plenty to eat, my Pa always says, and things have to get better soon," Howard said. "I guess Sammy and I need to be getting on home. It's time to go bring the cows in for the evening. Thank you for the cookies, Mrs. Wade. Sure good. You going to be at the oration at the school house next week?

"Probably," Jed nodded at the boys as they pushed their chairs in. "Your folk'll be there I reckon. Tell your Pa I'll get back to him on the pasture land we were discussing last week--at the meeting."

"They're all growing up so fast," Jed said with a wistful lilt in his voice as he and Agnes watched the three boys walk out toward the barn. "Just yesterday Gene was that scrawny ten year old boy."

"Yes, with the lost look in his face that almost broke a body's heart. Now he's most grown up...and what would we have done without him?" Agnes sat down at the table. Howard reined their mule around, and Gene gave old Blue a slap on the haunch as the mule trotted down the lane.

"I do believe that boy is going to be taller than me, Agnes. Do you know he's already looking me in the eye--I guess I'd better get on out and help with chores."

Jed put his cup over by the coffee pot, and headed for the barn. He noticed there was a light breeze and a smell that said full summer was coming soon. He stopped to watch the milk cows milling around in the lot as they waited to go into the barn for the evening's milking.

He walked to the barn and hollered into the darkness, "Gene?"

"Back here," came from a back granary.

"What you doing back here, boy?" he looked in surprise as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. "When did you improve your room back here? Last time I was in here you only had your punching bag."

"When I was in Europe we met up with Mr. Bouchette. Remember him uncle? The man you drove out to Lord Hughes' place back...how many years ago now?" Gene frowned in thought. "It was back when I worked at the hotel..."

"Yes, of course I remember Mr. Bouchette. That was a nice day. Agnes and I enjoyed it very much."

"He was visiting Lord Hughes in London when we were there. He was leaving for France and traveling on the same ship we were, so naturally we spent some time in his company. We were invited to visit him at his chateau. He comes from an old family that dates back many centuries. They were masters in defense...sword fighting, and the such like. He's very much into pugilism as well."

"You know we don't like fighting..."

"This deals a lot with the art of swords and the self defense of fisticuffs."

"Isn't that...fighting?" Jed's voice held a dubious tone.

"Yes...and no."

"I always thought that punching bag was a good way to take your frustrations out. It seems like the last few years have had their share, haven't they? How did you run into Howard? I thought you were working on thistles."

"I was...I can tell you the story while we work on chores," Gene gave the punching bag one more wallop before turning for the door.

Gene sat reading, glad the long day of work was at an end. He glanced up at the clock in the dining room and closed his eyes briefly. He opened his eyes and continued reading since he had several more paragraphs to cover.

"I hear them coming down the lane!" Agnes exclaimed as they set up a game.

"We'll have a little bit of time while David reviews Gene's work. You and Bessie can get things arranged," Jed said.

"Yes, that's true, but I want to ask her about some crochet patterns," she stopped as they heard the doors slam on the Hudson. "There they are now."

s36

2010-10-22T12:52:00.000-05:00

"I'm glad that you didn't go to the ball, but deceit isn't a good way around a matter. I don't miss the problems that came with school and playing sports. Angela, you live in a different society than I do. Your friends are--mostly--different."

"I don't have any real friends. You're the only one I can be honest with. You don't look at me...on the outside, and I'm not just the coach's daughter...I'm a person. To you."

He matched his steps to hers, and they walked on for a space. Angela wondered at the changes that had taken place in both of them. She had hardly recognized him as he rode past her earlier. Now as they walked side by side she stole an upward glance. How much taller he had grown in the last six months! His complexion had a ruddy, healthy glow, and coupled with his black hair it made his blue eyes all the more brilliant. The outside work and constant exercise had given him muscle on his wiry frame that most boys his age would not acquire for several years--if ever. Any other girl would have been shy and tongue-tied.

"Angela, I want to remain your friend. This isn't the only school you have been at..."

"No, and probably not the last," she pursed her lips in thought. "I found out why we left the other school in such a hurry."

"That is none of my business. I'm not into rumors and such things."

"It wasn't a rumor. I was somewhere and overheard something...but you are good like that, Gene. That's why I like you so much."

"I won't play with your feelings, or your heart either, Angela. We are both too young to be playing at grown up things. You know my family...a little at least."

"Yes, I do."

"We believe that religion is more than something you use. More than something you give lip service to...someone termed it as being archaic just a few months ago."

"I guess I know who," her brows drew together in a frown and she bit her lip. "But he doesn't speak for everyone. He doesn't speak for me..." Angela sat down on a park bench.

Gene snapped a lead shank on Garnet's halter and slipped the bridle off his ears hung it on the saddle horn. The horse dropped his head and began to graze.

"I believe...I believe that you believe he doesn't speak for you, but..." Gene turned back to the subject.

"No! No!" she shook her head violently and punched a small white fist into her other hand. "He doesn't speak for me. I don't want to...be like him. Or Mother for that matter. I just see their lives as empty."

"In what way?" his mind groped for the right question. "Empty--how is it empty?"

"I really don't know, but I look at things and think something is wrong."

The birds were beginning to build their springtime nests. There was a slight breeze stirring the new bush and tree foliage growing around them.

All I have to judge by is what's on the outside, he thought with a frown. He could not help but notice what was on the outside...how pretty Angela was in the light blue spring dress and cape. Her wide blue eyes imploring him to believe her words. Lord, help me, he sent a prayer heavenward.

"I do believe you, but I still have to judge by what I see on the outside," he spoke. "You know David Pickerel--he's our preacher--you remember. Whenever I have a problem, I go to David. He's got a way of helping me think out my own thoughts, my own answer...using God's Word. I don't know how, but you should contact David. It would be good for you to talk to him and Bessie..."

Ah-ooga! Ah-ooga! "Hey, Angela!" a male voice called from an automobile as it idled alongside the park sidewalk.

Garnet's head came up, but only with a curious glance as he continued to chew the grass in his mouth. Gene could hear several female voices laughing. He was cognizant of his farm clothing, and that he was straight from the fields. How embarrassing this would be for Angela. Her society friends would see him as a common laborer. He turned to his horse.

"I'm sorry I didn't think," he raised his hand to fetch the bridle from the saddle horn. "I'll slip the bridle back on over the halter..."

"No, wait," she put a soft white hand on his sleeve to stay his hand. "Give me a minute to send them on their way. I'll be right back," she turned and lightly skimmed over the new green grass and spoke to the people through the window of the vehicle.

He could guess that the occupants were boys and girls who just a few months ago were his fellow students. Some of the stray words from inside the auto wafted his way, and the voices were familiar.

"No. No, I will not come with you. I'm talking with a friend. No, I'm busy, and will be busy later as well." Gene overheard Angela reply. There was high pitched laughter then Gene distinctly heard Greg Bilker's voice loud and belligerent.

"I don't want to have anything to do with that countrified bumpkin! You'll be the laughing stock of Littleton High if you keep company with him..."

"I'll see you tomorrow!" she turned angrily from the automobile window and flounced back to where Gene had returned to the task of bridling his mount as the auto roared down the street.

"I'm sorry, Gene. They are rude and spoiled," she stamped her foot. "They make me so angry! I can't think of enough names for their behavior."

"No, it is I who should apologize, Angela. I didn't think, only that you might want someone to talk to. I didn't realize--I should have thought of your reputation, and how this would look."

"Gene Wade!" she stamped her foot again, "Of all the unreasonable ideas! I did need some one to talk to. I don't care what they think...or say for that matter!"

"But I do. I know who I am, and if they want to think of me as a farmer and someone who grubs in the dirt, well that's what I do--sometimes. But, you Angela, have to go to school with them. I will walk you back to your house, then I will wish you adieu."

"Gene," she raised her hand to his cheek.

"Angela, I wouldn't play with your feelings, nor your heart. I ask you for the same consideration."

"I'm sorry," she snatched her hand back. "I didn't think..."

"You didn't mean any harm. No harm is done. Come now, let's get you back to your home," he smiled, taking the lead shank they began the short walk back.

"Have a nice evening, Angela," he said as they stood before her gate. "Remember what I told you. David and Bessie...if you need someone to help sort things through. Very good people," he tipped his hat. "Take care," he said as he stepped into the stirrup.

"Gene?"

"Yes?" he continued to swing up into the saddle. He looked back down at her. "What is it, Angela?"

"Thank you. Thank you for being you."

"I don't know what else I'd be, but if it's helped?"

"It has," she smiled up at him.

"Good day, then," he smiled back. "Giddup," he neck reined Garnet around down the street and kicked him into a gentle lope toward home.

She had wanted to call after him, "Will I see you again?" but she knew it would be pointless to ask. His goal may not be to capture her heart--but he already had. She pulled her cape closer, and walked into the house.

s 35 nigh unto death

2010-10-15T14:00:00.002-05:00

"Agnes! I don't want to be rude, dear, but you look absolutely awful! You go up stairs and go to bed! I'm going to take over for you for the rest of the day." Mrs. Lewiston insisted.

"I'm fine. Really, Karena, I'm..."

"I've been around enough sick rooms. Honestly, Agnes, you need to rest. Nissa can spend the day at Bessie's. She and Eric play well together. I've never seen two little tykes that play so well! I'll keep a watchful eye on Jed and you go on up stairs and get in a good sleep! I won't take no for an answer."

"I suppose a good sleep would be what the doctor ordered," Agnes still hesitated. "And I know you'll take good care of Jed," she said with a weary sigh.

"That's a girl--just fold up your stuff and lay it aside. You've been sitting here long enough," Karena Lewiston clucked at Agnes as they tidied up the sitting room. "Now scoot," she said with a friendly pat.

"I so appreciate you and Jerrold coming over to help. Gene's been up night and day helping me, and doing Jed's chores. It's a wonder he's not down sick too."

"That's what neighbors are for. It's too bad Gene's had to drop out of school...and he was doing so well."

"He's fifteen already. Seems like it was just yesterday when he and Glory came back from Oklahoma," Agnes sat down. "It is a shame in some ways, but Jed only finished seventh grade, and Grandpa Wade only went to the fourth. I don't know that it hurt them any, but still..."

"If they don't have character to begin with, education doesn't make them a better person. Well, you need to get along up to bed. I'll be here when you get up," Karena said in her no nonsense tone.

"Thank you ever so much. These last few weeks have just about worn both Gene and I to a frazzle. A couple of hours of sleep should be a help," Agnes stood up and began to clear the breakfast dishes away.

"What are you doing? Off to bed with you!" Karena, with a deft movement, plucked the dishes from Agnes' hands. "Shoo! I said off to bed!"

"Habit I guess..." Agnes said with an embarrassed laugh. "I'm so tired I don't quite know what I'm doing. Alright, alright, I'm on my way." Her tired feet dragged toward the staircase. "Thank you ever so much again..." her speech was a blur.

Karena turned with a relieved sigh as she heard the floor boards upstairs creak telling her that Agnes had made it to her room, and as each shoe fell, then the bed springs creaked, she knew that Agnes was laying down. In a few minutes she would tip toe up and check that Agnes was covered and sleeping well.

The rattle at the back door told her that Jerrold and Gene were almost finished with the morning chores, and soon Nissa would be needing dressed and ready for the day. She heard David's auto as it crunched down the drive toward the house. Jerrold hallooed the passenger as the door on the Hudson opened and slammed shut.

Then there was the stamping of feet on the porch, the cleaning off the boots before entering. Karena threw open the front door, "Come on in, quickly now! I just got Agnes upstairs to lie down, so shh," she put a finger to her lips.

"Yes, mother," David pulled off his boots beside the door. "How is Jed doing today?"

"Agnes says he had a restless night last night. Indeed, his bed covers look as if he picked at them all night long!"

"Father is coming in from chores in a few minutes...And of course, Gene, also. I've come to carry Nissa to Bessie. Eric is looking forward to company. How is Agnes faring?"

"She's very pale and tired. Just what the doctor was afraid would happen. The summer heat was so very hard on her, and now this!"

"Well, you know, people in the cities suffered, and so many died from the record heat," David hung his coat on a peg by the door. "Is there anything I can do?"

"Just go in and sit beside the bed, David. That way I can clean up in the dining room and kitchen. I don't like to leave Jed unattended for long."

David walked into the pleasant sitting room and found a Bible sitting on the table at the bedside. He thumbed through the Psalms, pausing to read several random passages to the unhearing patient. With a sigh he sat quiet, remembering the time not so long ago, when he had been the patient. The summer curtains had been replaced by the winter drapes. A wreath made of bittersweet with winterberries entwined hung over the hearth while a large stone crock full of long colored grasses and cattails sat beside it. Light breezy summer decorations had made way for the bold, bright winter decorations.

He could hear voices from the kitchen as his quiet voiced father-in-law spoke in hushed tones. Even though he was unable to understand what was said, it was a comforting sound to the ear. David smiled as thoughts of the last few years sifted through his mind.

Karena Lewiston came bustling in to the room interrupting his reverie. "Thank you so much, David. I need to change Jed's plaster...and maybe you could throw some more wood on the fire there, to keep that water boiling..."

"I can do that. And let me help set Jed up, and we'll get those covers straightened up too," David said rearranging the blankets. "Jed," he bent over and spoke to the sleeping figure. "Jed, we're going to move you now. Don't be startled, man," Jed woke slightly as David slipped an arm under his back, and a hand under his arm, and Karena did the same on the other side.

"Ready? Lift," David said. In unison they pulled Jed up to a more comfortable position.

"Here, I've got some cool water," Karina gave Jed a sip of water then she moistened his face and washed his hands. "David, would you read a Psalm, and ask the blessing, then Jed can eat some oatmeal and tea."

"Agnes?" Jed asked.

"I sent her up to bed. She's plumb tuckered out."

"Good, worried about her," he finished with effort. "Gene?"

"He's young...Jerrold came over to help. You need to rest and stop your worrying! We're here to help. Now, let's tackle this breakfast..." Karena picked up the spoon. "When we get this all down I'll change that plaster, and then you can sleep. I'm here for the day."

After breakfast, the two of them busied themselves about the room and the patient, making him more comfortable.

"I think everything's all set," Karena surveyed the room and the sleeping man. "We can let him rest for a while. He has a bell if he needs anything."

"What a sight you two are! David laughed as he entered the kitchen. "Those aprons look real nice with your overalls."

"I think they are a sight for sore eyes, myself," Karena smiled. "You two were getting a might behind in the kitchen area."

"Aunt Agnes wasn't able to do everything. We just agreed we'd do what we could and not worry about the rest. Mr. Lewiston volunteered to wash, and I can dry and put away."

"Yes, Mother--and you too David--down you sit yourself and have yourselves some coffee. We don't have sweet bread to go with the coffee, but maybe, Mother, while we go to the wood lot and get up some wood for these folks, you can take care on that?"

"Cake, cake, cake!" Nissa slapped her spoon on her tray.

"Nissa! Don't slap on your tray," Gene put her spoon in the dish water.

"Aagh!" she made a face and turned away as Gene washed her face and hands.

"We have to clean up before you can get loose..."

Gene rolled his eyes at David, "Is she going through a stage! Nissa!"

"Nissa, come here," Karena said sternly. "Now, Nissa," she put an arm around her as she set the little girl on her lap, "you must be a good girl. Momma and Daddy need Nissa to be good and be a helper. Today you get to go help Aunt Bessie and little Eric, and Nissa must be a good helper. We will go get your coat, and cap, and you can go with Uncle David."

"Are you ready to go, Gene?" David asked as Nissa stood in her hat, coat, and holding her bag.

"Yes, Sir. What time will you be back over, Mr. Lewiston?"

"I'll be right over after the noon meal. The boys and I have some chores to do at home, but we'll be back after we eat."

"Gene, stop at the store for these few things, and I'll see you in a little while when Doctor Foster brings you back out."

"Yes, ma'am," Gene took the list and stuck it in his pocket. "Can you carry that big bag?" he took Nissa's hand as she nodded at him her eyes big, and her face solemn .

"It's been a tough two weeks for you and your Aunt hasn't it?" David spoke the obvious. "I'm sorry we couldn't help any earlier, but this year has been a challenge for all of us hasn't it?"

"Yes, sir."

"We'll stop at the store first, and get that list filled. The Doctor has a few other calls before he comes for you. That will give us a few minutes to talk. I don't think we've had any time at all."

"No, sir."

David was quiet for the rest of the trip. Was he just tired out from the last few weeks,or had Gene changed during the last few months and David had not noticed it? They had barely returned in time for the trial. The trial itself had been...a trial for everyone involved. Not long after, the new coach had come to Littleton, and school had started..."Well, here we are. Leave your bag in here, Nissa. Let's go see the nice lady at the dry goods store...can you get her out on your side, Gene?"
*******************************************

At the front door to the Pickerel home Gene met the mouth watering fragrant smell of baking yeast breads, cakes, and other homely odors. His aunt was an excellent cook, but Bessie Pickerel had come from a home that prided itself on its baked goods and Norwegian traditions.

"Come in, come in," Bessie welcomed them into the house. "Now, off with your boots right there," she pointed to a rug beside the door. "Here, Nissa. Come let's find the toys..." she knelt down and untied Nissa's cap. "Eric is up and ready for play! Are you ready to be a helper?" Bessie smiled at Nissa and pulled off her coat and cap.

"Nissa he'per," she shook her head soberly and trotted off to where she knew Eric would be.

"Here's a pot of coffee, and some sweet rolls for you two..." she handed David the pot of coffee and Gene the plate of sweet rolls. "I'm going back to my business, while you two entertain yourselves."

"I guess you know where that leaves us," David laughed and led the way to his study. "I've missed our talks, Gene. I wonder that you wouldn't do better with a nap though."

"I am pretty bushed, that's for sure," Gene took a sweet roll and began unwinding it's sticky sweetness. "But I can't eat this and sleep at the same time," he grinned at David.

"Okay, so we'll have a short talk while we eat...then you sleep until Doctor Foster arrives. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Bessie tells me you've dropped out of school since Jed took sick. That's pretty tough. You going to go back next quarter?"

"It's kind of like this, Uncle Jed won't be able to do much the rest of this spring. Besides, we're going to have to figure some way to pay for the doctor's bill and the medicine. I just figure I need to be doing what I can."

"I know how you feel. When my father and brother died in the canoe accident mother didn't have much money either. I took two jobs for a time...then Alistair found me a position at his law firm so I could work part time and continue my education."

"I don't know how we will work it out, there isn't much money out there," Gene said with a shake of his head.

"I heard...remember Howard, your school friend?"

David waited for Gene to shake his head.

"He's been hired by Mr. Goodnite to help gentle some horses. Howard was telling me just yesterday Mr. Goodnite's looking for another man to help. You're good with animals. You like horses too. Let me talk to Mr. Goodnite and see what he says. What do you think?"

"Yes, sir. I'd sure like that," Gene took another drink of his coffee and finished up his roll.

"You being all done with your roll, I'm going to just study for a while. You lay back there on the sofa...there's a pillow, and a cover...get some sleep now."

"Thank you, David."

Gene lay back on the sofa, and soon his breathing became measured and even with his sleep. David continued to study then he laid his Bible aside and bowed his head in prayer. Half an hour later there was a gentle knock and Bessie opened the door and stepped in.

"He's sleeping very sound isn't he?" she whispered.

"Yes. Agnes said he's been up trying to help her with Jed, and keep up Jed's work as well. He's got to be near exhaustion."

"Doctor called and he's going to be here in fifteen minutes. It' a shame to wake him..."

"I think I'll just go put on my winter gear and help with getting the wood stocked up for them. We'll let Gene sleep for a few more hours, if you don't mind?"

"No, I don't mind. Eric and Nissa are playing nicely, and it's about time for their lunch then naps."

"When he wakes up...send him on out with the auto and I'll drive it on home."

David and Bessie stepped out of the room and shut the door leaving the sleeping occupant.

David dressed in his warm winter clothes, made a few telephone calls, and stood waiting for his ride.

"Here," Bessie handed him a package. "Take this to mother. Tell her I'll ride out with Gene when he comes."

"I'll see you later then," he said as the doctor pulled to a stop in front of the house. He waved and slid into the passenger side.

"Gene, you have grown older since last we met," the doctor chuckled.

"He needed his sleep. I called some friends...and neighbors to come help get the Wades some wood laid in for the winter. They've always been good to help other folks, and they need some help now."

"Jed's going to be laid up for some time, and that's a fact."

"He must have been pretty sick."

"Well, he was sick in the first place. Then the stubborn mule wouldn't listen when Agnes told him to wait till Gene got home to help. He got down, don't know for how long he laid there till the lad got to him..." he clucked his disapproval.

"I'm glad we are all back and can help now," David said.

"That's a fact too. No one is as good a nurse as your mother-in-law. She's as good as they come. It was tough that she was away visiting when this happened. Well, here we are now. Let's go see how the patient is getting along," the doctor turned the motor off and reached for his black bag.

"The medicines are doing their job..." the doctor pulled the stethoscope off his ears and it hung around his neck. "Your heart is still weak, but it's coming back. Karena," he motioned for his helper. "David, bring me an easy chair. Karena, let's get this fellow into a chair for--Oh, I'd say about fifteen minutes," and the pair swung Jed around and sat him in the waiting chair.

David stoked the fire while they covered Jed with quilts.

"I have some Kringla and hot tea," Karena said bustling out to the kitchen.

"Are those your helpers?" Doctor Foster asked David as they heard machinery clattering up the drive.

David stood and looked out the window and down the drive. "Yes, I believe they are beginning to arrive."

"Finish up your tea Jed...this kringla is the best--Karena, you've out done yourself...David, help me move Mr. Wade over to the window for a look see, before we put him back to bed," the doctor ordered.

"There's more to you than meets the eye," David groaned as they helped Jed to the window.

"What's all that out there going on?" Jed tried to stand on his own.

"That's enough for this old man--David, help me get him back to bed. Those are your neighbors. They've come to help you and Agnes get some wood laid by. Now, you get some rest, and no more worrying."
********************************

Gene lay quiet trying to understand where he was. The room was familiar, but his mind whirled out of focus. Day...he struggled to grasp what time of day it was--sunlight slanted in...where he was--David's study! He sat up, his eyes flying open as it came to him. David was not in his study, the clock must surely be wrong...it read two thirty. Gene scrambled up and out the door, and headed for the sounds he heard coming from the kitchen.

"Miss Lewiston," he began, "I mean Mrs. Pickerel, where's David? I've overslept! I need to be at home!"

"Calm down. David went to help Father with the wood. He wanted you to get some rest. I have some leftovers that I've kept warm. You eat, and we'll all ride over with you."

"I was sleeping so sound!" Trembling, he dropped into the nearest chair. "I can't explain. I don't know what came over me. Give me just a few minutes...and maybe a glass of water, please?"

Bessie set the plate of hot roast beef and mashed potatoes on the table in front of him. "I'll get the children ready while you eat...take your time. Come on," Bessie turned to the children, "Nissa and Eric, let's put our toys away. We're going for a ride with Mr. Gene."

"Ooo," Nissa said.

Eric nodded,"Ooo."

Gene stacked the empty plate, glass, and silverware on the counter beside the sink. "If you are ready, let's go," he said as he grabbed his coat.

"I have a box of things if you can carry them out for me," Bessie said as she finished tying caps and buttoning coats.

"You've been mighty busy this morning!" he said groaning as he lifted the box.

"It isn't that heavy...!" she said with a laugh. "Set it in the back if you would, please. Nissa, Eric..." she opened the passenger side door and lifted them into the front seat. "You don't mind if we sit up here beside you do you? she asked.

"No, that's fine," Gene slammed the door shut. "You all in?" and he closed Bessie's door.

"You've done quite a bit of driving this year, I hear."

"I did last fall and into December, but since Jed's been sick I haven't."

"That's understandable. Mrs. Dorking complained to me just the other day about how difficult it was to find good help. You two sit still," she cautioned the babies.

"That so? I didn't know you and Mrs. Dorking were..." Gene could not think of the right term.

"In the same social group?" Bessie supplied.

"Yes, or social circles?"

"We aren't, at least not very often. I ran into her at Dolittle's the other day. She was asking if I knew anyone to take your place. I told her, no--Gene's not replaceable. She never did catch my meaning," she shook her head sadly, as she put out a hand to restrain Nissa.

"Thank you, but I'm sure they will find someone," he said with a frown. "Here, we are," he pulled up and parked beside a neighbor's truck. "What are all these trucks and things parked in here for, I can't hardly find a place to park?!"

"Neighbors still help neighbors around here," Bessie smiled. "Can you get the box?" she reminded. "Come on you two," she took a child's hand on each side and guided them toward the porch.

Agnes smiled at Gene, "Put the box on a chair in the kitchen... Mrs. Lewiston said David had left you to catch some more sleep."

"You can go on down to the wood lot," Karena said as Gene appeared. "They will be finishing up, but there may be still some stuff that needs to be done."

Gene's pinto was small compared to the draft horses Uncle Jed kept for work, but when he wanted speed and agility, Bobby was the best choice. Gene pulled a bridle on the pinto, and true to form, Gene had barely swung on to his back when he was off into a gallop.

They covered the distance quickly, and pulled to an abrupt stop.

"We, are not right now cleaning up. For you to do for later that we will leave. Even in the cold we can sweat," Jerrold Lewiston stopped to wipe his brow as he rested his axe on the log he was chopping... "Tether your pony...you can help load."

Gene dug into the work with fervor, and they were soon throwing the last of the winter supply of wood on the load.

"I'm sure the women have coffee and food in the house. Everyone tie up and head on in," David called as they finished piling the wood in back of the house.

"Howard! How are you doing?" Gene had not seen his school chum since last year. "Sure good to see you."

"Yeah, and you too. School days aren't the same any more," Howard lamented. "I feel so old," he laughed.

"You going to the high school next year?" the boys took their heaping plates in and sat in the corner beside the wood stove.

"I don't know," Howard said with a shrug. "I'm havin' trouble with Algebra...and my Latin's a struggle too...I've been working for Mr. Goodnite a couple of days a week. I kinda like farmin' and don't know that I need a lot more education. How you getting a long at the high school?"

"I'm staying home now, working the farm with Jed...with all the trouble I've had I'm thinking I might as well just figure on staying on the farm too."

"Always thought you'd amount to sumpthin', Gene. You don't struggle with education like some of the rest of us...don't you like high school? I saw some of your games this fall. There were some good games."

"Yes, and Coach Dorking says that by next year our team will be top of the district," Gene's face lit up. Then other thoughts crowded into his mind, and he frowned. He chewed in quiet thought. "You were always good in sports, Howard."

"Yeah, maybe a little...above average, but I think I'm better in memory than in...well, think about Reece. Now, he was good."

"Yes, he was a good ball player. He's in the Army now, though isn't he?"

"I guess after last spring when...," Howard did not need to finish.

"Yeah, it was his choice to enlist. He just turned seventeen a few months ago. He had to be seventeen didn't he?"

"Either that or they lied to get him in..."

"Do you like working for Mr. Goodnite?" Gene asked. "Not to change the subject, but,"

"This isn't the first I've worked for him. I worked for him a year ago, you know, and it has its benefits," Howard's face reddened.

Gene snickered into his bread and butter. "Besides the benefits, how's the work?"

"He's not bad to work for. Mr. Goodnite expects a good days' work, but he pays well and he's not unreasonable. Some men complain, but they're mostly the lazy ones that don't want to work in the first place." Howard thought a minute while he took a scoop of cream pie. "Say, if you're looking for work, I could put in a good word for you."

"David suggested maybe he'd say something to Mr. Goodnite. They don't live but across the field there," Gene motioned with his fork, I could continue working here with Uncle Jed as well."--

"Whew! I'm glad they came, but we sure had a houseful for a while," Gene said to Agnes.

"It is good to have good neighbors! There's enough wood for most of the rest of the winter in our wood pile. And look at all the food they brought--and left. The women even washed the dishes and cleaned the kitchen before they left."

"About the only thing left now is to check on Uncle and make sure he's comfortable."

"He's been resting so much easier. Doctor said it will take him most of the spring to recover though," Agnes' looked at her hands then back at Gene. "I don't know...we can't expect the neighbors to help with the farm. Then there's the doctor bill. I know Doctor Foster won't press the matter, but," she said with a shrug.

"I've decided I'm not going back to high school," he held up a hand to silence Agnes' protest. "Now, just hear me out. I'll be able to do most of the farm work, and what I can't do I'll swap work for. David and Howard found me some work with Mr. Goodnite. I can work at least two days a week. He's got several orders for 'well-trained teams' and I can help him work with his horses. He said he liked the way I handled Bobby, and he could see I'd do a good job."

"Gene, I don't want you to give up your education."

"Well, I can be stubborn just like the rest of the Wades, and this is one time I won't budge. Besides, David's going to tutor me, and I'm going to help tutor Howard, and we have it all worked out!"

"What about your sports?"

"I enjoyed playing ball, but there are things that are more important. Let's go check on Uncle now."

Agnes sighed. "It seems providential. I know first hand how deep the stubborn streak runs in the Wade family. If they're nothing else, they definitely are stubborn!" She smiled at this boy that she loved so deeply. She was too proud to cry in front of him, but the memory of the day that Gene had found her sobbing into her aprons after that preacher had called him a charity child marched across his mind. The day he understood that he was not a charity case as other people had told him he was, the day when he found out he was going to be Jed and Agnes' child--by choice...
**************************************

"How are they working?" David asked Augustus as they watched Howard working on a green pair of horses.

"This pair...this pair is just a week out of the pasture. That's good, Howard. Enough for one session!" he called out.

Howard acknowledged his boss and turned them toward their stalls.

"This next pair," Augustus signaled Gene to bring out the next team. "This next team is fair ta middlin'. We've been working them two weeks longer than that other team, and they're comin' 'round v'ry well."

Both men leaned their arms on the top rail to the pasture fence as Gene brought out the pair then stopped just inside the gate.

"G'un," Mr. Goodnite waved the go ahead. "Take 'em on out." They watched as Gene chucked and the horses moved a head. "The one there keeps wanting to shake the bridle off...

"The teams look to be doing well, but what about the boys. How are they doing?"

"The boys are doin' well. I've had hired men that didn't do near as well."

"Times being so hard, you would think there would be more men willing to do a good job," David's brow creased.

"Wheel...I'm of the opinion," Mr. Goodnite said pushing his felt hat back on his head. "I'm of the opinion these lads are young, you see. They're just a hittin' their stride so to speak. Naw, some of the older men are slothful, and some of them would be harder workers, but they're older."

"So, you're saying you think it isn't so much that these men are all lazy..."

"Naw--I'm a thinkin' the Almighty's a preparin' these young fellas for somethin'. That's good, Gene...take 'em on in," Mr. Goodnite signaled.

"Could be, could be. Not something one wants to think on, but," David said with a shrug. "Just could be."

"You were in Europe last summer. What did you think, man? Sounds like there's a lot of unrest."

"England, of course, has a buffer--and France has built..."

"Fools! I say they're fools!"

"What makes you say that?"

"Wheel, naw, it's this way. I like horses, and workin' with horses, and such like. Do I think horses are going to be the way a transportation ah the future? Naw! Just because I like them I'd be a fool to think such a thing. Automobiles, trains, why, even airoplanes--those such things are the future."

"So you think..."

"Man--I tell you they're fools if they think the channel or the buffer zone they built in France--won't hold back the tide."

"Papa?" Wanda came around the corner to the stable. "Good afternoon, Mr. Pickerel," she stopped shyly at seeing David. "Excuse me...I didn't intend to interrupt..."

"No, daughter. What're you needin', girl?"

"Mama had a question at the house, was all."

"Tell your Mama I'll be in shortly, then."

"Yes, papa," she lingered a few seconds, her eyes searched the stables.

"Will you come to the house with me then? There will be coffee?"

Mr. Goodnite was a knowledgeable man, and had some well thought out opinions. "If it isn't an imposition, I'd come along for a visit," David said as a memory tweaked at his mind. "The boys can meet me at the house shortly if that's agreeable?"

"Surely, it will be," Mr. Goodnite nodded. "Howard, you and Mr. Wade will come to the house when finished here," they turned toward the house continuing their conversation.

Wanda blushed and smiled at Howard before she turned and followed back to the house.

"Naw, Mr. Trevor, and Mr. Wade," Augustus Goodnite had the interesting habit of calling the boys on occasion by their proper names. "Here is your pay for the month. I believe you're doin' a respectable job. I want the pair we've been workin' with gentled to ride as well as in a team...individual you see. Would you be willin' to each take one horse an work with it one on one?"

"Not a problem for me," Howard spoke out.

"No, I can do that," Gene agreed.

"G'd then. Tomorrow you may take them home. It's the possibility of a little extra for you both. If it sells out well, that is."

The boys pulled their jackets a little closer, and wrapped their scarves a little tighter before they mounted, to head for home. Both of these geldings were used to a saddle and bridle and they had been ridden around in the pen for about a week. This was their first experience outside the pen.

"Well, here goes," Howard said with a grin.

"Yeah, here goes," Gene agreed as the gate swung open, and the boys allowed their horses to stand in the open for a few minutes. The thought of the sleek chestnut horse he had been working with as a riding animal challenged Gene's interest. Both he and Howard worked well with the animals. However, this was a test for all involved.

"Okay, Bing, let's go," Howard clucked at his mount as if he were driving, and the horse moved forward. "I think I need to put the harness bridle on. He doesn't know how to react with just this one..."

"Come on Garnet," Gene worked the reins and they also moved forward then stopped. "The idea, Howard is to be patient."

"In a week things will be different," Howard spoke just before Bing realized he was not in the pen any longer, and began wandering at random.

"I'm sure that is so," and Gene urged his horse along the drive toward the road. "Giddup, Garnet!" he found himself trotting in the right direction with Howard coming along behind.
***********************************************

"The work with Garnet is rather slow, don't you think?" Agnes asked a week later as she stood watching Gene work his horse.

"Overworking them is not good. I want to ease into the training. To win his trust."

"He is a very good looking animal. Are you going to take him out on the road?"

"Yes, I thought I would ride toward town. I've been trying to acquaint him with different situations, things he might encounter...in a slow like manner. I'll be careful though," he anticipated her warning as she opened the gate for him.

The horse's hooves made a soft clopping sound as Gene rode onto the quiet backstreets. The sunlight filtered through the leafless trees in the early afternoon, and a few dogs barked an unfriendly greeting. There were a few parked automobiles, which Garnet shied away from at the first. He soon became accustomed to their sight, a good first step. Gene turned into another neighborhood where there were more barking dogs, and children were outside playing. Garnet danced away from each new experience, and sometimes Gene had to sit still speaking to and stroking the quivering neck until his horse calmed down enough to move on.

"What's yer horse's name, mister?" one youngster stood at his picket fence.

"Garnet," he answered. "What's your name?"

"Glenn," the boy said. "I've been sick, but now I'm better."

That's good, Glenn. If I ride up close to the fence do you want to pet him?"

"Oh, wow! Would I!"

"C'mon, Garnet," he clucked then gently nudged him with his heels. "C'mon boy!" Garnet slowly step by step walked up to the fence until the boy could reach over and touch the velvety nose.

"It tickles!" the boy laughed.

"Well, have a nice day, Glenn," Gene turned back to the street.

"Thanks!"

Gene waved with his riding quirt as the horse slowly continued.

"Let's head on home, boy," he turned down another street heading for home. "I think we've had enough for one day."

Honk! Honk! a car approached from behind.

Garnet was off like a shot down the road. Gene had no time to think, only time to react. Having ridden most of his life he just let him run for a little bit. Then bit by bit he began to rein him in, and in the end he walked him quietly down the lane and into the paddock.

"Any trouble?" Agnes asked later as he came into the house.

"Nothing I couldn't handle," he said.
*******************************************

"Are you going to the picnic Saturday afternoon?"

"I thought I would. What about you, Howard?"

"Wouldn't miss it for nothing," Howard always seemed to be grinning.

"Who you taking?"

"They're having one of those basket raffles..."

"Oh, I see," Gene said with raised eyebrows.

"It's a good cause...its going to help the community and all."

"Ah, right you are," he grinned at his friend, and Howard guffawed at him.

"You going to ride Bing over?"

"Yeah, he's coming along pretty good. How about Garnet?" Howard stroked his horse's neck.

"I've got him used to almost every thing by now. Started riding him in town a few weeks ago, and he's come right along. I'm pretty pleased with him. Hope Mr. Goodnite will be too. Guess I'll see you tomorrow night then," Gene turned Garnet toward home.

"Yes, siree. Plan on it!" Howard said with a wave as he turned the other way.

The auctioneer held up a pretty basket with a pink ribbon wrapped around the handle. "Who'll give me ten cents here?" the bidding began as some young man nodded. Fifteen cents? Who'll give me Fifteen...fifteen?" He stopped a moment and held the basket up. "There must be a whole chicken dinner in here from the feel of it! who'll give me fifteen cents?" The bidding went pretty heavy then, "Twenty-five? Going once, twice, there you go to the young man over there, twenty-five cents.

Twenty-five cents seemed to be the going price. Maude Summers basket brought forty-five cents due to some rivalry between young men. She had told more than one young man which basket was hers, and someone was determined to make the other one pay.

Now, this basket has not only the prettiest white cover with blue bells embroidered on it, but..." the announcer stopped and lifted the cover..."umm umm umm! I can't tell you what all's in here, but I know the young lady that prepared it, and can vouch for her ability..." he held the basket up. "Who'll give me ten cents?"

Gene's eyes twinkled with laughter. He knew whose basket it was too, as Howard nodded, someone else across the way nodded also, then Howard, then the other person. The bidding went pretty fierce. Everyone gasped as it went all the way up to a dollar.

"I thought that other fellow wouldn't ever give up," Gene chided Howard after the bidding stopped.

"Me neither!" Howard exclaimed. "Don't know who he was, but..."

"Somebody giving you a run for your money," Gene laughed.

"Yeah, probably so. Who's basket did you get?"

"I bid on Ruthie's."

"Ruthie's basket? Whatever for? She's more like a little sister."

"That's exactly why," Gene agreed.

"I told Gene," Ruthie Goodnite came up with her basket, "One day when I get older, he can be my beau. That's why. Come on, Gene. We can sit over here by Mama and Papa!"

Gene rode down the spring time street. The sunlight filtered through the budding leaves on the trees. The dogs barked, children ran to their yard fences as he approached, reaching out to pet the pretty horse. Garnet-- brushed to a brilliant sheen, his flaxen mane and tail floating in the breeze like silken banners waited patiently as they ran their small hands along his neck. Sometimes he would even bend his head down and blow softly on their fingers.

Gene chose streets at random, they were all familiar and after so many trips he lost track of where he was.

"Hello," a familiar voice called to him from the sidewalk in front of a big white house with a wrap around porch.

"Whoa," Gene stopped and turned the horse toward the speaker. "Hello, Angela. How are you doing?"

"I could lie, and tell you I'm doing fine, but that would go against our original agreement, wouldn't it?"

"Well, yes, it would," he looked down at her in her delicate spring dress. She was so fashionable, the color highlighted her fair complexion, golden hair, and her blue eyes. He thought she looked like a perfect life sized doll. "Are you on your way somewhere?" he asked.

"No. Only home."

"Garnet and I have a few moments," he said as the saddle creaked when he swung down. "Let's walk up to the park. We can talk on the way. That is if you would like."

"I would like that."

They walked silently for a few minutes before Angela stopped and confronted him. "Why don't you come back to school? Nothing's the same...and everything's wrong. Don't you miss school? Your friends, and all of that?"

"No, I don't miss school. I have friends where I'm at now. Most of the people at the high school weren't my friends."

"What about me?"

"I said most of the people. There were a few friends"

"Well, don't you miss me?"

"In what way, Angela?" he was concerned where this was leading.

"I mean our friendship. I didn't go to the Christmas ball...I didn't want to go with anyone but...I told them I was sick...And I was too," she spoke quickly when she saw the shock on his face. "I was sick of their hypocrisy, of their lying, of...of everything."

s34 Days that Follow

2010-10-08T18:03:00.001-05:00

"You need to lighten up, Wade!" said Greg Bilker.

"Bilker, you need to get-- Come to think on it, it's You that needs to lighten up!" Lonnie Smith glared at his team mate.

"He just thinks he's something. He can come in here--teacher's pet and all that--and push the rest of us around. Tell us what we can do. I'm not going to take his..."

"I said, that's enough," the team captain had Bilker by his shirt collar. "You're just sore, cause coach trusts him to watch out for his daughter...and she doesn't seem to mind the arrangement," he said dropping Bilker onto the bench.

Bilker glared at Lonnie then at Gene. He bent over and began to untie his shoes. There was an aura of anger that hovered around Bilker; Lonnie and Gene knew the matter was not settled.

Gene put the last touches to combing his hair and tucking in his shirt with a sigh. Always when dealing with people in general there was no end to people with an issue over something.

Bilker was still in the locker room as Gene and Lonnie finished their grooming and walked out the doors.

"Thanks, Lonnie. I doubt it will do any good...just make him mad at you also, but thanks anyway."

"Oh, he always makes me sick! He's got a mouth and an attitude to match. Sometimes I'd like to dunk his head..."

"Well, yeah, I know what you mean, but what's the answer for idiots like him?" Gene said with a shake of his head. "They aren't happy with being their own worst enemy, they have to be everyone else's too."

"Looks like we're both heading the same direction," Lonnie commented as he knocked at the coach's office door. "Where you taking Angela this time?"

"I have to pick her and Mrs. Dorking up from the dress makers and take them home, then bring the car back here..."

"That's a tough luck," Lonnie grinned at Gene.

"I'm not...Angela and I are just friends, Lonnie," Gene replied with embarrassment. "In some ways though it is rather convenient for her..."

Lonnie looked skeptical, "Convenient for her? How's that?"

"Since guys think that Angela and I are an item, it keeps snakes..."

"Like Bilker...," Lonnie guessed.

"...away." Gene finished. "What's taking him so long, better knock again, Lonnie!"

"Oh, hello, boys!" Mr. Dorking stood in the doorway as Lonnie raised his hand to knock again. I'll meet you in front of the building when you get back, Gene. I need to go over some things with Lonnie. Here's the keys. Don't let those two get the best of you now! the coach said with an absent minded dismissal.

"Yes sir..." Gene turned and walked out to the Dorking's cherry red automobile. I don't know why those two can't just walk home, he thought. They're only a few blocks from the dressmakers...but it isn't my business.

He pulled up neatly in front of Deering's Ladies' Shop, shut the motor off, and went to the front door. Peering in he could see that Mrs. Dorking was just finishing up with Regi Deering the dress maker. Angela glanced up as she waited. Seated primly on the bench beside the big mirror, she motioned at him.

Gene rolled his eyes. "Mrs. Dorking, do you need any help?" he offered as he stood just inside the door.

"There are a few things here," Mrs. Dorking replied. Her attention still occupied by the dressmaker, she waved at a small mountain of boxes. "You may put them in the back seat."

"Edgar!" Regi Deering called loudly to her son, who quickly appeared. "Help this young man carry these boxes out please!"

Edgar Deering was a thin pale young boy the same age as Gene. He grabbed three boxes, and Gene grabbed three boxes--this was a task that would take more than one trip.

"It isn't that these things are so heavy!" Edgar spoke as he set his packages into the back seat. He pushed his shock of coal black hair out of his eyes as he spoke. "They are just so clumsy!"

"They don't feel like there's anything in them," Gene agreed. "Thanks, Edgar. I was only supposed to pick Miss and Mrs. Dorking up..."

"No--no--thank you!" Edgar exclaimed. "I always get to fetch and carry...at least I don't have to do it all this time."

Finishing up they set the last items in the back as Mrs. Dorking swept out the door, a small sack in hand, Angela following close behind.

"Quickly, now...we must get home quickly...I have an engagement this evening. Angela, you sit up front there," Mrs. Dorking hurried Gene along as he closed the door behind her.

He held the door for the young girl and waited.

"Gene, you don't have to do that..." she protested.

"That's fine, Angela. Just get in and sit down," he said shutting the door after her.

"That's so embarrassing," she whispered at him as he put the automobile into gear.

"I don't know why...," he looked into the street behind him and pulled out. "you have to grow up sometime." The auto skimmed down the street, took a right, and purred down the few blocks to the large white house with the red shutters, and wrap around porch.

"Hopefully, Matilda has supper ready," Mrs. Dorking worried out loud. "I don't want to be late! If you will just carry those boxes up and put them in the front room. I'm in too much of a hurry to show you where else to put them..." she said jumping out and hurrying up the front steps.

"Mother's always in a hurry..." Angela made a slight face. "Here, I'll carry a package, and we can have Harvey finish with the rest. I'm sure Father didn't hire you to 'fetch and carry', as Edgar would call it."

"No, he didn't, not that I can't help. It's just that I'm supposed to have the Chevy back to the school quickly. That--and I need to get home to help my uncle with chores," Gene frowned. "Thanks, Harvey," he said piling the rest of the packages onto a cart. "See you Monday, Angela!" He slid into the seat and headed back to the school.

Mr. Dorking and Lonnie rose from the bench as Gene's door slammed behind him.
"You study those and we'll go over them Monday, Lonnie.". He said handing Lonnie a tablet of papers.

"Here's your keys," Gene said. "I'll see you Monday also...Lord willing."

"Thank you, young man," Mr. Dorking picked up a brief case and smiled at Gene. "I appreciate your help. I suppose you're in a hurry, but I was going to mention. You know at the country club we have a Christmas ball. If you don't have plans, perhaps you could be Angela's escort for the evening...her flowers and all would be provided, of course..."

Inwardly Gene quaked, but he spoke in a firm forthright manner, "I'm sorry, sir I do have other plans, and we don't dance...or go to balls...either one.

The smile disappeared and Mr. Dorking's face lost its smoothness. "I find it difficult that one--such as yourself--that is in the traveled class...that has been overseas and all. I find it difficult that you would hold to such archaic beliefs! You don't dance?! Why, in society one can hardly be said to be accomplished until they can dance!"

"My Pa always said he didn't want to hold any other woman in his arms except my mother...and I know mother felt the same way...Perhaps it is archaic, but I'm not ready to make a choice. --I'm not saying Angela isn't a great pal and fun to be around--but..."

"It's just a dance, for Pete's sake...not a commitment! If you have other plans, you have other plans. I just thought you enjoyed the privilege of being her escort. I'm sure I can find someone else...Lonnie...or Carpelle,or...even George Bilker, anyone of the other guys on the team would jump at the chance..."

"I'm sure that's true, sir. You will have to do as you see fit. My Aunt and Uncle will be worried about me...I'll see you on Monday," Gene said and tipped his hat slightly before turning toward where he kept his bicycle.

As Gene turned the corner, Lonnie finished tucking the tablet inside his coat, and was about to head out on his bicycle as well.

"I live just on the outskirts of town...we can peddle a ways together," he said. "So, you and Angela aren't an item then?" he questioned as they neared his house.

"No. Matter of fact someone else may be taking my place shortly," Gene rolled to a stop and put a foot down as they came to Lonnie's house.

"Is that so? I've always thought Angela was mighty pretty. Most fellows would..."

"Jump at the chance to be her beau. That's what Mr. Dorking just told me," Gene said with a sigh.

"Ah-oh! Do I sense trouble in paradise?" Lonnie laughed.

"Seems like there is a Christmas dance coming up, and Angela needs an escort."

"You don't want to take the damsel to the dance?"

"That's the long and short of it...I don't dance, you see..."

"Well, it's not that hard to learn!"

"No, you don't understand...it is a scriptural thing."

"Oh, I do see. My folks don't like dances either. They say they are immoral, with drinking...and other things that they only whisper about."

"Well, I got to get going. My Uncle's health has been doing rather poor lately," Gene pushed off with his foot, "I'll see you Monday, Lord willing."
**************************************************

"Thank you, Lord!" Agnes breathed a sigh of relief as the long awaited figure appeared at the end of the drive way.

"Ge, Ge, Ge!" Nissa splashed her spoon back and forth in her dish. Nissa had watched as Agnes had kept an anxious vigilance between the front and back door for the last forty-five minutes.

"'ome! 'ome! 'ome!" she continued to splash.

"Yes, Nissa, Gene is home. Don't splash in your soup!" she said removing the bowl and giving her a piece of bread.

Agnes cut a thick slice from the loaf of bread then covered it with chunks of butter, and sprinkled sugar on top.

"Here!" she urged the rolled up slice into Gene's hand as he came in the back door. "Jed's been gone over an hour now."

"I'll take care of it," Gene turned and ran across the farm drive to the barn.

Agnes watched as in another few seconds Gene had slipped a bridle on Barney, the old bay horse. The patient horse stood quiet as Gene took a handful of mane in each hand and swung up. At Gene's urging the horse broke into a lope and the pair of them went quickly out of sight out across the pasture toward the wood lot.

Fifteen minutes more, Agnes stirred the soup and let Nissa down out of her chair. Another fifteen minutes went by and Agnes began to bundle Nissa in her warm wool coat. What was keeping Gene...what if he needed her help? Oh, God, please help them! she prayed as she slipped on her own coat and stepped out into the cold.

"Sled! Sled!" Nissa clapped. Thinking it was play time, she obediently sat on the sled as Agnes walked out into the cold pulling the sled behind.

"Hang on tight, baby!" This walk did not seem so long when she was riding behind the team, today it was an eternity. "Momma's going to run, so hang on tight!" she encouraged as she walked then trotted then walked some more.

Her heart leaped as she neared the wood lot. Gene was working over Jed's limp form as he lay in the snow. "Hang on, Nissa!" she warned as she took off on a final sprint that covered the last few yards.

"I told him not to come out here. I told him to wait. No, he wouldn't wait...had to come out!" she babbled as she knelt in the snow. "What's wrong? What can I do?"

"He'll be all right...he's coming around. I found the hot coffee you sent. I've warmed him up. See he's coming around."

Jed's eyes rolled as they helped him sit up. Gene rolled his coat up to use for a cushion, and continued to feverishly chafe his uncle's limbs.

"Uncle! Uncle!" he called as he slapped at his cheeks. "Wake up! Come on...help us get you up on this load of wood. We need to get you back up to the house...! Come on now!"

"Da, Da, Da! 'Mon, 'mon, 'mon!" Nissa sang still sitting on the sled.

Gene jumped up on the load of wood and made a place for sitting. "There you go," he said as they eased Jed into the spot, and Agnes settled beside him. "I'll just tie Barney on the back here, throw the sled on there, and Nissa will help me drive back to the house, won't you plum cake?"

"Giddup, Sally! Giddup, Tom!" the lines jumped in his hands, the team pulled forward, the chains rattled and Gene guided them in an arc toward the house.

The time was short compared to the trek Agnes had taken out, but her anxious eyes eagerly sought the lights of home.

Gene angled as close to the front door as he could, "Whoa!" he commanded.

"What a blessing Jed didn't take the big wagon. Easy now!" Agnes crooned as they slid Jed onto the ground. Nissa toddled along beside as the two of them helped Jed with feeble tread up the steps, across cold gray porch, and into the warm living room to his stuffed chair beside the stove.

"You take care of Jed...I'll go put up the team and finish the chores."

"Yes, you go ahead now. I'll take over from here."

It was an hour later by the time Gene was wearily heading into the house, and Doctor Foster's auto sat in the drive.

"Yes, I would say he has a bad case of pneumonia...give him lots of fluids...warm fluids especially. Keep him warm...Do you have any ipecac?"

"Yes, I have some Ipecac, and I have some warm soup. Some hot tea?" Agnes asked.

"Chicken broth? Hot tea, toast. Anything a long that line," the doctor instructed.

"I have some warm compresses."

"If he starts having trouble breathing...Gene...come here lad."

"Yes, sir?"

"Come with me," he placed a large skillful hand on Gene's shoulder and looked closely into his face. "I need you to help me get some things set up--I've seen this parlor before..." he said grimly running a weary hand through his white hair. "Well, this is what I need, Gene..."

"Doctor, I think that should be just about it," Gene said as he surveyed their makeshift hospital room. "Aunt do you have Uncle Jed ready? We'll help you get him into bed now."

"That should do it. Now, just don't get sick yourself. I'll be back tomorrow. Use the mustard plasters. If the mucous becomes a problem...use the formula that I gave you. Gene, you need to spell your Aunt so she doesn't get sick too. You've done a good job, but don't let down your guard." The doctor shouldered his way into his black coat. "You boys played a good season of football this year. My new associate did most of the games, but I did make some of them...Well, I'll see you tomorrow," he picked up his black bag and was gone.

"You take care of Uncle Jed. I'll take care of Nissa."

"She's had some supper...maybe just a little apple crisp there. Could you set the kettle on? I'll make a mustard plaster for him. Here, Jed, here's some warm tea," Agnes held the cup to his mouth. "Oh, Jed, why didn't you wait?" she whispered. "Oh, Jed," she said with a sigh.

"Stubborn," he whispered back. "Stubborn...and stupid."

"Jed, there's nothing wrong with being stubborn...you just have to make sure it's for the right reason! And Jed..."

"Peaches?" he closed his eyes and lay back on the pillow.

"I love you."

s33 Closure

2010-10-01T15:05:00.001-05:00

"Objection!" Attorney Slie exploded from his seat. "Objection!"

"Order in the court room!" Judge Boyel rapped his gavel to quiet the court room. "On what grounds?"

Mr. Slie's mouth opened and closed silently.

"Order in the court room!" the Judge pounded his gavel again as amazement continued to buzz through the audience. "On what grounds?" he repeated to the the astounded attorney.

"Not fair!" he at last sputtered. From the look on his face he was grasping at straws in the water.

"Overruled!" the gavel fell again, and silence ruled for the moment.

Someone produced a handkerchief, and Spike wiped his face. He looked unashamed out across the townsfolk, most of whom he knew. His gaze rested on a careworn and faded older woman huddled in the far right corner. Dressed in faded outdated clothing, her attire matched her face: she appeared the personification of hopeless suffering.

"Most folks here know me. You know what I've been--through most-a-my life. I'm not here to defend that life, 'cause there warn't no defending it...but to them that say that Jesus Christ and his gospel can't change lives--I'm living proof that they's wrong. Gene Wade," Spike started to grin at Gene, "Gene, when you punched me out that day on that side street, you must-a knocked some sense inta me somehow..." he stopped to wipe his face again. "The day I met Gene, I was paid to whup the tar out of him. Scrawny kid. Didn't weigh a hundred pounds wet...should a been easy...but, he beat me...then treated me to ice cream at Greene's. That day I met Gene and David...and Jesus on a side street, and it changed my life. David Pickerell taught me that ya got to do the right thing...because it's the right thing to do."

"Objection!" Attorney Slie regained his voice. "Testimony should be struck from the record!" he demanded.

"On what grounds?"

"Volunteering information..."

Judge Boyel paused, "This is my court room...the testimony will remain on record."

**********************************************************************************

Gene lay balanced in the hammock, sunlight filtering through the leaves of the tall elm tree. As he thought back through the years, he felt old for all of his fifteen years of life. Shep jumped up, startled, as Gene rolled out of his cocoon.

Jed sat in his favorite chair whittling on a piece of oak, and Agnes had her embroidery thread spread on the seat beside her as she sat working on her embroidery. They looked up as Gene sauntered toward them as they sat on the porch.

"It's too hot to lay in that blanket!" he exclaimed as he pulled his harmonica out of the pocket on his bib overalls. He plunked down on the top step of the porch and began to play a haunting melody as the dog plopped down in the shade of the bottom step.

"That dog follows you every place..." Jed observed with a chuckle. "When you were gone he often lay just searching the driveway...listening for some kind of inkling."

"He's getting old though," Agnes added gently. "Look at the white hair around his muzzle. And he's getting around a lot slower than before."

"Kind of like you and me," Jed winked at Agnes and grinned.

"I suppose so, but at least we're still getting around!"

"Praise the Lord!" he agreed.

"Is it time to get Nissa up from her nap?"

"Yes, it is," Jed replied. "Gene is it your turn?"

"Yes, sir, I believe it is," he grinned, slapped his harmonica against his palm a couple of times to get any moisture out, then stuck it back in his pocket.

As happy gurgling baby sounds began to filter out the window a few minutes later, Agnes and Jed smiled and began to put their projects away.

"I sure do miss that boy when he's gone," Agnes said softly. "I'm so glad he's back."

"Yes, but...we won't be able to keep him. Time will snatch him away."

"I know it Jed," tears began to slide quietly down her cheeks. "I know it...and I want him to do what he needs to do..."

"But why does it have to hurt so...to let go," Jed finished her thought for her.

"What's the matter, Aunt?" Gene came into the room bouncing a giggling baby Nissa.

"I'm just an old codger that's feeling sorry for myself," Agnes wiped away tears.

"You will never be an old codger...not to me. You'll always be young and gorgeous, the second woman I've ever loved."

"Oh, go on with you, now!" she waved him away and wiped her eyes some more. "Give Nissa here. I'll change her clothes, while you go get ready for church. We're supposed to go to David's for games after church. That new family that moved into town will be there as well," she added with a subtle hint.

Gene combed his hair a little more carefully than usual--to please his Aunt, and was more careful about his clothing. Why, he wondered, would the daughter of the new teacher in town be interested at all in a country farm boy? With a sigh he put on his newsboy cap, and stumped down the stair steps.

Not, he thought as they pulled up later that evening at the Pickerell house, that Angela Dorking was unpleasant, but he could not see that she would find him exciting...but who can fathom the mind of a girl?

"So, have you been getting settled in?" Bessie asked Mrs. Dorking as they waited their turn at croquet.

"Yes, but..." she hesitated as the other players caught up to them.

"Oh yes," her husband exclaimed to David, "just a few more weeks and the school year will begin. Yes, and I'm ready to dig right in!"

"Yes, but what?" Bessie asked after the ladies took their turns and waited for the men.

"Well, Bill is so out going that he makes friends easily. This town seems so small--as to what we're used to--and it's hard to get into the...group."

"Since I've been here all of my life, I guess I don't really know..."

There was small talk when the men caught up.

"Do you have any hobbies? There are several groups that meet and do different projects?" Bessie offered.

"The last school district we were in there was a very good Bridge club," Edna said.

"I believe there is a Bridge club here in Littleton as well," Bessie said as she took aim.

"Bridge?" David scowled slightly.

"Yes, Bridge, David. You know, the card game?"

"Well, yes I know the card game..." he looked annoyed that she would ask such a childish question.

"I believe we will just make the round in time before it gets too dark. What do you think?" Jed looked anxiously to the last wicket in the near distance.

"I think you are right," David's scowl lightened up and his good humor returned. "There are refreshments in the house as well."

"Your parents are such good croquet players, and they get along so well," Angela held a bowl of ice cream and a cookie.

Gene picked up a cookie and crumbled it into his ice cream.

"I think they're headed down a long rough road," Jed challenged an earlier statement.

"Yes, they are real jewels," Gene wished he could listen to the other conversation, as the older folks discussed politics, religion and important events of the evening.

About to take a bite of her cookie, she hesitated. "Do you always talk so...queer? That is an odd way to put it...and why did you do that?"

"Why did I do what, and what is so odd about calling people jewels?" he said with a frown.

"You put your crumbs in your ice cream. In the circles I've been in--in the larger schools--" she said with a shrug and let him finish the sentence in his own way.

"Well, you know we're out of the way...kind of back woods know nothings out here," he replied controlling a smoldering anger.

Angela casually smoothed down her dainty silk dress, careful not to add cookie crumbs to its embellishments. She was of two minds. The one agreed with the young man sitting in the chair across from her.

These were back woods know nothings out here compared to the different schools she had been in. After all, her father was a good history teacher and a good ball coach. She could not understand why he had agreed to take this job...even if he did know the principal of the school, and on such short notice.

The other mind was that in all of those schools she had never met a boy as compellingly handsome as this young man, and she could not figure out--with just one meeting--which mind she wanted to win the battle.

"You may be right," she said. "I didn't mean to make you mad, either way," she smiled.

"There you have it then. I won't have to be anything but what I am, and neither will you. Agreed?" he took a scoop of ice cream and cookie crumbs. "I learned that trick from Sir, Hughes, knight in HMS, when we were in England on holiday this summer. This way I won't have to be concerned about getting crumbs on my Tuxedo, you see..." he said in his most British accent just as the young lady was about to take a scoop of her ice cream.

"Yes," she giggled, and covered her mouth. "I agree, Gene Wade."

"So, Gene, that is your name, right?" Bill Dorking asked.

"Yes, sir. Gene is my name," he said with a slight smile at Angela.

"Are you out for sports?"

"I'm not enrolled in high school, sir."

"That was excellent, Mrs. Pickerell," Mr. Dorking handed his plate to Bessie then turned his attention to the young man. "I understood you were just fifteen...Not enrolled in the high school? Why ever not...your grades not good enough? If you're good at sports, perhaps..."

"No, sir..."

David spoke quickly, "Gene was one of my star pupils...he was so far ahead of his grade I had to send to University to get some books for him to finish last year."

"Then why? Is it...money?"

"No, sir. Money is not the problem."

The Light...In Dark Places S32

2010-08-06T07:28:00.001-05:00

"I was afraid...well, when I saw Gene with the group, I figured we'd lost him forever," Jed spoke softly into the dark.

"He looked so grown up and fine--I didn't know who he was--at first," Agnes lay quietly beside him as the moonlight streamed in through their open bedroom window.

"He must a' grown two inches since he's been gone."

"That new suit...he just looked different...I don't know..." she paused and her mind wandered back through the last few years.

"You're thinkin' maybe he's changed too much?"

"Jed, we're just--now I don't want this taken bad--"

"I know, Agnes. We're poor folks. We're poor in the 'goods of this world' at least."

"When we visited your step mother and sister, it was fun. I enjoyed myself. They do live a life different than what we live, but..."

"Peaches, do you wish you'd went back with your Aunt when your folks died? You'd of had that kind of life. Servants, a big house, silk and satin dresses. Probably married some rich man..." he thought how sick Agnes had been lately. Maybe a good doctor could help... Jed thought on the last few years with their hardships and toil. She had bore the work and tears, never complaining, but.... His heart agonized. Did she regret her choice?

"Jedidiah Wade! Have I ever given you to think that I hankered after that sort of life?! Have I ever?!"

"Well, no, I can't say that you have," he said slowly turning his face away from her.

"Jed...you just look at me, Jed!" she exclaimed softly.

He turned his head back toward her. "You could have had it so easy..."

"Well, that's right. I could have married John Beetley. Now that would have been something. He's been married to how many women...? Or what about Arthur Tahrt. Good old Art. He's still on his first wife, but that's because she just ignores all the insults. And then there was..."

"Whoa! Whoa!" he protested. "That was selfish of me...I was feeling sorry for myself. I just thought...I thought of all the things I would like for you to have. Things I always planned to give you, but times have been..." he continued in thought.

"You just stop it then!" she punched his arm half playfully. "You hear me...just stop it. I've never cared for any of those things, or I would have left with my Aunt...and my sisters. No, I used to wonder what our children would be like...and I couldn't think that anyone else would be the perfect father for those children. I was right too. I wouldn't have wanted children by any of those other fellows. They weren't worth making more of."

"And you thought I was?" It had never occurred to Jed to think that far ahead, and it was a revelation that she had.

"Some girls just looked at what the man...I mean boy...was on the outside and how he treated her. I have to admit all four of you boys covered those two bases well. Don't remember any one of you that was ever rude or thoughtless." She stopped to think back. "No, there were a couple of instances where there were pranks, but--those were done in fun. I liked the way you all were respectful of your Pa, and your step mother, and watched out for Grandma Wade."

"Those were just things everyone did," Jed protested.

"No, those were things that everyone should do, but I've been in enough homes to see the difference."

Jed remained silent at the backdoor compliment. How odd, he thought. Being respectful just came natural to him and his brothers. Was it because it was a natural character, or had it been ingrained in them from such an early age that it was second nature to them?

Agnes' thoughts turned back to Gene. "Now that he's been places, don't you think he will find it dull here? Won't he want something different? Something exciting?"

"Don't sell the boy short. At least give him a chance. I think he's made of some pretty good stuff. Character doesn't change, Peaches..."

*********************************************************

Gene lay awake thinking of the long journey. Yeah, it had been fun and exciting. He could now say he was a part of that group known as 'traveled folks'. He listened to the night sounds, the air was so heavy--so very hot. He took his pillow and went softly down to the front porch. Flopping his pillow down on the smooth painted board floor he lay down. The moonlight was so bright it made silhouettes of the trees, buildings, even the fence posts. He listened as the crickets played their night songs, and was so thankful to be home...

"No, Shep, go lay down over there." He whispered as Shep lay down right next to him. "Over there!" he nudged his dog away. "And stop panting so...you old fool dog," he sat up and caressed the soft silky head and ears for a little while. "Now go on over there. It's just too plum hot over here for both of us," he said with a chuckle.

Grudgingly the old dog moved over, but no further than he had to. He stretched out full length and the boy and dog went to sleep.

"Gene's not in his room," Agnes worried as Jed came into the kitchen the next morning.

Jed put a finger on his lips, he guided Agnes just a few steps, and she peered out through the open kitchen window.

"Oh!" she caught her exclamation, and her eyes grew misty.

"Do you think he's outgrown us?" he said handing her his handkerchief.

She shook her head and blew her nose. "Better get some breakfast started," she dabbed at her nose one more time. "Don't have anything fancy to fix..." she fretted. Taking one last look at the boy sleeping with his head on one side of the pillow, and the dog with his head on the other half, she sighed and turned back to her work. "I wish we had something extra for this morning..."

"Don't worry about it, Agnes," Jed spoke more to himself than to her, "he's never asked for anything but what we've had to give. Always been thankful for it too--an' I don't reckon he's going to change now..."

Gene woke slowly, raised up on his elbows and made a face. "Shep you old scoundrel!" he grinned as the dog roused out of his sleep and jerked into a sitting up position with a guilty look. The pots were rattling in the kitchen, and Gene could smell home cured meat frying. His stomach growled and his mouth watered as he thought of his Aunt's light fluffy biscuits and homemade plum butter. Nothing in all his travels could equal home and its simple pleasures.

"Just go on with ya, you old mutt," he scolded, but repented when he saw how ashamed his dog tried to look. Gene picked up his pillow and threw it on the porch swing, "Oh, come on," he invited Shep over as he plunked down on the swing. Shep sat on his haunches, tongue lolling out and laughing. Gene vigorously rubbed his head and behind his ears. "You old fraud!"

The spring on the porch door complained as Jed stepped out. "Too hot to sleep?"

"Good morning, Uncle. Yeah I would say. I think you could probably fry an egg on the side walk...When our ship got into dock the whole talk was of nothing but the heat!"

"Well, come on inside. Agnes has breakfast ready...we've been just having one hot meal a day. Don't have to heat up the kitchen that-a-way...so how was your trip?" Jed put a hand on Gene's shoulder. "My but I think you growed a whole foot while you were away, boy!"

Gene stood up a little straighter, "Yeah, just a few more inches and I'll be almost as tall as you..." he said with a grin.

"I'll go get the punkin'," Jed turned toward the stairs at the gurgling and cooing coming from Nissa's room.

"Wait--let me get her," Gene blurted.

Jed stopped with a grin, "Why, I guess I have been hogging all the attention the last few weeks--sure you go ahead."

Gene disappeared before the last word was finished. They could hear Nissa screeching with delight when Gene's head popped around the corner. Jed patted Agnes' hand as peek-a-boo noises and laughing and clapping sounds came from Nissa's room.

"You go ahead and offer thanks, Gene," Jed obliged as soon as the pair joined them, and Nissa was situated in her high chair.

"I'm not the only one that's grown," Gene exclaimed as he watched Agnes feeding the baby. "And she has changed in the last six weeks. I wouldn't have thought she would have changed so much!"

"Well, we don't see it. But David and Bessie's little Eric! Now he's sure grown--" Jed took a bite of his biscuits and plum butter. "We were so surprised to see you all last night--why it's a good thing my teeth are naturally fixed in my mouth!"

"That's so," Agnes teased, "you'd have stepped on them when you jumped up and they fell on the floor with your jaw!"

"That's probably right. I was so...well it was funny we didn't get your telegram. We probably won't get your letter for another two weeks.

"The court allowed us those two more weeks originally, but we got a telegram that said they'd moved the trial up and we needed to be back. Well, we had to catch the first ship back...and it was full speed ahead to make it on time. Aunt, these are the finest biscuits I've ever had..." he helped himself to two more and heaped plum butter on each half.

"Now, Gene with all those fancy places you've been..." Agnes turned a rosy pink at the compliment; she smiled quite pleased. "What is that dreadful...oh, look," she peered out the window, "there's Mr. Hurst."

They all turned to watch as their neighbor drove his tractor pop-pop-popping all the way down the drive.

Jed pushed back his chair and walked to the screen door, "Mornin' Bill," he called out as he stepped onto the porch, welcoming his neighbor.

Mr. Hurst swung off the tractor, and with his normal hitch to his get along gait, walked toward the house. "Mornin'," he said in his usual raucous gravelly voice.
He handed Jed a dish, "Ann sent your missus a dessert, heard she's been feelin' poorly. Thought maybe she would like some cherry pie. Had quite a time gettin' it here. She'll try to get by this afternoon for a visit. She's been pretty busy with our three little 'uns."

"Come on in for a cup of coffee. Don't know about you, but we're pretty much done for field work..." Jed held the door open for Mr. Hurst.

"You can sure say that again!"

Gene listened to the adults' conversation, and his thoughts floated along with their words. Mr. Hurst had moved onto the farm that the Kings had previously owned. Everyone had been surprised when the Kings had moved to the farm. The neighbors were not surprised when they moved back to town. Gene's thoughts were suddenly riveted back to the present as Mr. Hurst turned to him.

"Are you ready for the trial?" He asked.

Jed soberly pushed back from the table cradling his coffee cup. Waiting for the boy to answer. Even Agnes and the baby were quiet, all noise ceased. It was as if everything was suspended on a thin translucent cotton candy thread, afraid to move lest the thread should break.

"I guess we're as ready as we can be, sir," Gene said with a slight shrug.

"Ya ever seen a trial like this?" Mr. Hurst said in a quiet voice, unlike his normal free spirited conversation.

"No, sir. Can't say as I have."

"It's kind of intimidating for those involved, but real inter'estin' to watch. I saw one--a big trial out east once..."

"There were some real surprises that came out of it. Sometimes things aren't as cut and dried as you would think they would be."

"Is that so?" Jed asked leaning forward slightly his eyes narrowing with intensity.

"Yes. It was a murder trial, and every one just knew who it was that had done it...cept in the end--that wasn't who it was. It was a reg'lar mystery. Like them mystery stories they write."

"Well, they say that truth can be more strange than fiction," Agnes spoke lightly. Her heart beat quickened, an unknown fear rose in her breast. It was not until Nissa whimpered that she noticed how tightly she clutched the baby, and relented in her grasp.

"Don't worry, Aunt," Gene could feel the sudden fear and tension in the air, "Alistair is helping us, and David says God is watching over us." He spoke with a conviction that he did not understand. He had suffered wrongful accusations. Accusations that had never been cleared up and he knew that a number of people in the community still thought him a vandal and a thief. If God cared, wouldn't he have taken care of him...made sure he had been cleared? But David said God works in mysterious ways....

ALPH THOMPSON JURY SELECTED-- the paper screamed...OPENING ARGUMENTS BEGIN TODAY....

Sweat seemed to gush from every pore in his body as Gene sat in the packed court room. His gaze wandered over the jury sitting in the jury box. Gene never quite understood what people meant when they said it was a trial by a jury of your peers. These folks sitting in the box were just ordinary people. Not a one of them would have been peers with Alph Thompson. There were four local shop keepers, four farmers, one businessman, and two women. Even with perspiration beading their faces,they had dressed in their finest Sunday clothes prepared for the serious task at hand.

Albert Slie, the defending attorney, scrutinized the pages on the table in front of him as if searching for something that was not there. Every now and again he would turn to one of his associates and whisper something, then turn back to his notes. He was pleased with the jury selection, the two women, he felt, could be swayed to sympathize with his client. It would be harder with the shop keepers...

The prosecuting attorney, Dale Attabuoy, looked over his notes, and spoke quietly to Alistair. He turned back to his notes as the sweat carried the attorney's black spectacles down his adequate nose to rest at the tip. He removed them, wiped his face with his large white handkerchief then slid them back in place. He scanned the jurors earnest faces. Dale Attabuoy knew these people as Albert Slie could never have known them. Dale worked with them, and for them, even went to church with some of them. Some people would look at these folks as country bumpkins, but not Dale, he knew them very well. He watched Judge Boyel as he prepared to hear the case before him. Dale saw the judge peer through his spectacles, and sigh. He was an older man, just ready to retire...

"George Potter, do you mind if I call you Spike?" This had been a long week of heat and a stream of witnesses. Dale was about to pull out his Ace and throw it on the table.

"No, sir. Everyone calls me that..."

"Now, Spike," Dale continued his questioning, "tell us what you knew previous to the explosion. Don't be afraid, now..."

"Well, sir, I'd heard rumors that they were out to get 'that preacher'. I had it from a...a very good source that they wanted to shut him up."

"Now, Spike, you are obligated to tell the truth. It's very important that you tell the truth. Can you give us a better idea of what you mean?"

"I have two older brothers. They were paid to cause problems for David Pickerell...but because Alph Thompson was running short on his local goons..."

"Objection!" Albert Slie jumped up.

"Objection sustained. Please, young man, watch your phraseology..." the judge ruled.

"Ah, well, Alph had lost several of his right hand ...ah, workmen...and he called in a couple of goons...or I mean guys from Chicago to do the job. They were supposed to..."

"Objection! Supposition is not admissable..."

"Sustained. Please rephrase that last statement."

"The men were hired to set fire to the Pickerell's house." Spike wiped the sweat from his face.

"Objection. How does this boy know all of this...?"

"Overruled--let the boy finish his testimony!"

"George E. Potter, please finish, and answer the question. How do you know all of this?" The Judge instructed Spike.

"I was there when Mr. Thompson and Mr. Winsom made the deal."

There was a loud gasp as the boy's words hit the audience like a hard fist to the stomach.

"What do you mean, boy?" Dale encouraged.

"Sam and I was on our way uptown. Often times I'm confused with my brothers, 'cause we kinda look the same, and this big car eased up beside us and next thing I know we're sittin' listenin' to 'the deal' and what we're supposed to do. Since Lute and Zooker and their guys had been picked up that made Alph shorthanded, so Alph was bringing these other fellas in. Willie--that's my brother, and so's Sam, they were supposed to help, but Alph and Royal Winsom decided..."

There was another gasp. No wonder Mr. Winsom had been so sick lately. No wonder he was not here at the trial. His only son implicated in this sordid mess!

"Yes, sir, it was Willie and Sam what took the money from the hotel, and broke them windows. Yes, sir, they were supposed to make Gene Wade look bad...he's a friend you know, of David Pickerell. I felt so bad for my friend...Gene's as honest as...as...well as this day is hot. I just didn't know what to do...Willie and Sam...they're my brothers, but Gene's my brother too! Gene...I'm so sorry. So sorry!" Spike's head dropped into his hands and tears fell onto the wood floor. "So sorry!" echoed in the silent court room.

More...or Less?

2010-04-06T18:40:00.004-05:00

"My first girl was so good. She did everything perfectly. Never a problem. My second girl...she was different. Her teacher told me one time, 'Virginia, if you had only one child you would have thought you were the most perfect parent in the world..."

I love that story from an acquaintance of mine. She went on to comfort me with, "You know, Mrs. W. if you only had two children you would have thought you were the worst parent ever..."

"I returned, and saw under the sun, that the race is not to the swift, nor the battle to the strong, neither yet bread to the wise, nor yet riches to men of understanding, nor yet favor to men of skill; but time and chance happeneth to them all. For man also knoweth not his time: as the fishes that are taken in an evil net, and as the birds that are caught in the snare, even so are the sons of men snared in an evil time, when it falleth suddenly upon them."
(Ecclesiastes 9:11-12)

There are old wives sayings such as: the fly on the top today will be the fly on the bottom tomorrow.

And what does that have to do with Ecclesiastes? Just this, life has a way of putting everyone in their place. About the time I think I have at least 90% of the answers...I find that I haven't even got 1% of the questions. The race is not always to the swift--nor the battle to the strong. Neither bread to the wise, nor riches...but time and chance happeneth to them all. That's us, time and chance happeneth to US.

"Wherefore let him that thinketh he standeth take heed lest he fall."
(1 Corinthians 10:12)

Another wives saying that I remember was, "the bigger they are, the harder they fall" which goes along with I Corinthians.

What makes a person better than their peers? Or better than any one else for that matter? Some folks think it is money, or possessions, but what is it really? You can take money and possessions away from a king and they still act like...a king. You can take money and possessions away from a person of good character and they still will act like...a person of good character.

"And he spake also this parable unto certain who trusted in themselves that they were righteous, and set all others at nought: Two men went up into the temple to pray; the one a Pharisee, and the other a publican. The Pharisee stood and prayed thus with himself, God, I thank thee, that I am not as the rest of men, extortioners, unjust, adulterers, or even as this publican. I fast twice in the week; I give tithes of all that I get. But the publican, standing afar off, would not lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but smote his breast, saying, God, be thou merciful to me a sinner. I say unto you, This man went down to his house justified rather than the other: for every one that exalteth himself shall be humbled; but he that humbleth himself shall be exalted."
(Luke 18:9-14)

Jesus was a righteous individual. He spoke with authority. He told Some people things they didn't want to hear: "Woe unto you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! for ye are like unto whited sepulchres, which outwardly appear beautiful, but inwardly are full of dead men's bones, and of all uncleanness." (Matthew 23:27)

And he spoke things to others they never expected to hear: "And he said unto her, Thy sins are forgiven. And they that sat at meat with him began to say within themselves, Who is this that even forgiveth sins? And he said unto the woman, Thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace."
(Luke 7:48-50)

Those of us who have been washed in the blood of Jesus know that we can go to Jesus and he will continually be there for us. What counts isn't that we are perfect, but that He is perfect.

"And he hath said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my power is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. Wherefore I take pleasure in weaknesses, in injuries, in necessities, in persecutions, in distresses, for Christ's sake: for when I am weak, then am I strong."
(2 Corinthians 12:9-10)

Let us each fall upon the mercies of God imploring his forgiveness for our failures, and his grace and strength to rise up and continue to walk in God's way, remembering that His grace is sufficient, His power is perfect, and that:

"But we have this treasure in earthen vessels, that the exceeding greatness of the power may be of God, and not from ourselves; we are pressed on every side, yet not straitened; perplexed, yet not unto despair;"
(2 Corinthians 4:7-8)

Hallelujah! What a Saviour!

Shadows

2010-03-01T16:41:00.004-06:00

The picture is of an empty dusty road in late summer. Green leaves not moving at all, frame the downward slant of brown ribbon with only shadows of those looking on from behind the picture taker. It brings to mind life. Life with all of its past and all of its promised future.

Shadows of the people and events of our past can be specters like Casper the friendly ghost. Specters that remind us of good times and good memories, that we may smile at with fond remembrance or with a sigh and the thought of, 'where have the years/days gone? Or they may be the haunting specters that bring sorrow, shame, or remorse. Specters that are just as well forgotten. Or the sigh of 'what might have been'.

Life for young people is usually full of a promise of the future. Things may be great as they are--and the picture looks to be as rosy as the present. If they aren't in the best circumstance...well, there's always tomorrow, Scarlet, when surely things will be better.

What happens when people get to the middle...or end of life? Their future promise is limited, perhaps, but may it not be by their own short sightedness.
Busy hands and a busy life (not a busybody, by the way) are a recipe for a happy outlook on life. If a person sits and thinks on miserable things, they will be just that miserable.

Pictures of life filled with what? What do you fill your life with?

If in Christ we have hope in this life only, we are of all people most to be pitied.
(1 Corinthians 15:19)

What a Saviour!

There and Back Again S31

2010-01-28T22:15:00.003-06:00

"Look here! We've got a letter!" Jed almost ran into the living room.

"Oh, read it quick!" Agnes lay gasping on the couch fanning herself while Nissa sat playing on the floor.

Jed's hand shook slightly as he carefully opened the envelope and began to read:

"Dear Aunt and Uncle, and baby Nissa, We arrived in England fine..." he continued. "The letters of introduction that Sir Hughes sent with us worked wonders. With the folks Alistair knew and Sir Hughes' letters we have been in some really posh homes. Aunt you would love the food and...in a few weeks we will be leaving for France and the continent. We are looking forward to a visit with Mr. Bouchette, and perhaps Lord Hughes is in Paris also..."

"What a nice letter, so glad...everyone sounds fine. In a few weeks they will be turning toward home," Agnes said with a sigh.

Jed watched her pale drawn face out of the corner of his eye. He sighed, it broke his heart to see Agnes feeling poorly, and this ghastly summer heat had intensified her sickness. He bent and clapped his hands at baby Nissa. She laughed and cooed at him then crawled over and stood up holding on to his worn and faded overall pant leg.

"That's it come to daddy, sweetie. Well, now aren't you the cat's meow! Look at that, Agnes! Ain't she just sumpthin!" he lifted the smiling, drooling baby on to his lap dabbing at her chin with his handkerchief. "Two more teeth, and she's almost walking already! Sure a smart little tyke too..."

Agnes' face lit with a smile. "You two sure make a pair!" she laughed out loud and sat up gingerly.

"Now don't get up...you just stay still. You need some water...something to drink?" Jed offered anxiously.

"I'm alright. I just need to change positions. Gene's letter was a breath of fresh air, and the world looks better when I can sit up. I'm so tired of feeling puny! This hot air is so stifling!"

Jed ruminated on an idea as he dandled Nissa on his knee and waggled his fingers at her. She laughed and tried to catch them.

"There's some cold chicken in the box, why don't I just fix up a picnic basket, and we'll take it down to the creek for supper. It'll get you out of the house...if there's any breeze we should be able to find it down there. What do you think?"

"It sounds like...but I don't think I can carry Nissa all the way down there, Jed," the hopeful look died out of her face.

"Didn't mean for you to carry nothing, Peaches," he smiled at her. "I'll hitch up old Sally, and we'll drive down in the wagon. "You go on over to your Ma, Punkin--" he said standing Nissa on the rough, tickley carpet. She laughed and bent to pat the flower pattern under her little pink fat baby feet.

"Come to Mother," Agnes smiled and waved her hands at the baby. "Come on, dolly," she encouraged with a semblance of her old vigor.

"It sure is hot!" Agnes watched the waves of heat rise off the brown pasture grass as the wagon groaned and rolled slowly toward the creek.

"Whoa there, Sal, old girl! He pulled back on the lines, and wrapped them around the brake--from habit--not of necessity. He jumped down from the wagon seat, and laid out the old quilt and some pillows under the gnarled old elm tree. Last of all he brought the hamper of food and placed it carefully on the quilt.

"No, I've never seen worse. This heat's just baking everything, just like we are in an oven. " He said as he walked back to the wagon. "Here," he took the baby then held out an arm to help Agnes down from the wagon seat. "Everything's ready," he steadied her steps to the spot under the elm tree where he had spread the old quilt.

Agnes leaned against his tall lean figure. Odd, she thought how the heat baked the smells of the world around her. She could smell the sweat that ran down his body, the parchedness of the earth around her, the salty horsey smell from old Sally. She could even smell the heat.

There was not an ounce of anything but muscle on Jed's wiry frame. That was a family trait, Agnes guessed. Most all the Wade men she knew were the same. Tall and large boned frame-wise, with muscle like iron. They did not look like much for their size, but...

"It hasn't been too much?" Jed arranged the quilt, helped her sit down. He came back with the last old pillow from the wagon. "Here now, this ought ta help you get comfortable..."

She leaned wearily against the solid elm tree and closed her eyes. A smile lit her face when she opened her eyes and looked into his worried face.

"No, Jed...it hasn't been too much," she lifted her hand to caress his smooth cheek. "Jedidiah Wade--have I ever told you just how dear you are to me? I remember that first time...that ball game. You were so tall, so good looking...I almost couldn't hit the ball...but I was determined..."

"A scrawny kid in pigtails and freckles,"

"You weren't supposed to remember the freckles," she teased and ran her fingertip lightly around his ear. The effort became too much, and her hand dropped to the quilt.

He squeezed her hand lightly, "Here, I have some fruit juice...I put it down in the well so it's cool. It'll be good for you...Nissa!"

Jed and Agnes laughed, as baby Nissa sat beside the picnic basket and opened the one side of it. Up, down, up, down went the lid. Next she began to pull the napkins out that covered the top of the plates.

"Hand them here, lambie--" Jed encouraged gently.

Nissa turned and smiled at him, handing the napkin over, then she pulled out the next one...and so forth.

After their cold lunch, Agnes lay back, her head resting on the old pillow. She watched Jed and Nissa playing in the pitiful excuse of a creek. Some years it sang with life, but today there was just a trickle of water. It looks just like I feel, she thought, not even enough water for a mosquito. The cold fried chicken, dried apple pie, and pickled green bean salad had been just right, and the cool fruit juice hit the spot. She fell asleep listening to Jed's voice singing, 'Bye a baby buntin' to the baby.

Much later, Agnes woke slowly to the soft breathing of Jed and Nissa sleeping soundly beside her, the glimmer of the first evening star shimmered in the hot evening sky. She did not want to move, did not want to break the spell that hung around the trio. Everything was so peaceful and perfect in the early evening shadows...even old Sally tethered on the sapling next to them slumbered, her old gray head drooping heavily.

Jed turned over, his eyes opened slowly. "Did you have a good sleep?" He smiled, reached over the baby and caressed the loose hair out of Agnes' face. "How long has it been?"

"How long has what been?" she asked, her face clouded.

"We have been so busy the last...oh, I'd say million years...we haven't had time for many days like this. Days to just spend...like this."

"Well, I'd say it has been...oh--about a million years at least."

"That's what I thought--" they both laughed.

"I wish I may, I wish I might..." she began.

"Just what do you wish?"

"Hmm, well, I don't know. I'd like to feel better...I'd like the hot weather to...to be cooler, you know. If you could make a wish, what would you wish for?"

"Peaches, if you felt better...I would have everything I could ever want. The Bible tells us to be content with our food and raiment. We have food and clothes. We have Nissa here, and God willing, Gene will be coming home to us...probably before his next letter arrives in the mail. What more could any thinking man ask for?"

"A lot of men ask for a lot more than that, but I feel like the richest woman alive. I've never been more content. Just look at that sky..."

They watched in contented silence as more stars joined the first one.

"It's time to be heading back to the stable, Mabel," Jed sat up and rubbed a hand across his face and ran his fingers through his hair. His dark brown hair stood on end.

"Oh, how I love thee, let me count the ways," she recited, laughed, and twirled her fingers through his hair. "I don't know when the last time was when I felt better!"

"Then we'll have to do this every day...until you feel completely well," Jed carried the basket back to the wagon as Agnes picked up the baby...and the pillow...

Jed woke early the next morning putting his hand out he touched an empty bed. He lay quietly, wondering where Agnes was. He heard some pans rattle down stairs in the kitchen. His feet hit the floor, and he grabbed his shirt and overalls that hung on pegs behind the bedroom door.

Agnes turned and smiled as he entered the kitchen still hitching his last overall strap on the button, "Good morning, you lazy man!" she chided and handed him a cup of coffee.

"You had me scared for a time there, woman. Here let me help with that..." he set his coffee down, and took the bucket out to the hand pump and brought in the morning's water.

"Don't you be gettin' too rambunctious now. You take it easy. Just 'cause you feel better this morning..."

"After breakfast, I'm going to sit on the porch with my sewing," she began to dish up the oatmeal while the bacon drained. "You could get Nissa. I hear her waking up..."

Agnes heard his work boots thump on the stair steps and Nissa clapping her hands and squealing in delight. How comforting a good man like Jed was she thought with a long sigh. Some men were like the rolling tide, here today and gone tomorrow, but Jedidiah was someone you could depend on through and through.

Jed dried and put the last plate back in its place in the cupboard. "Are you sure you want to sit outside?" he fretted.

"I am kind of tired of a sudden. It's nap time for baby...maybe I'll just rest for a short while...before I sit out side."

"There!, That's what I was concerned about!" he frowned. "But you just lay down for awhile. There isn't anything you need to do right now any way..."

"There's always plenty to do..."

"Course there is, but nothing you need to do right now. Thought I'd drive into town after bit and pick up the mail, and stop and get the paper too. You and baby can ride along. I'll carry Nissa up to her crib. Come on, little one!" he scooped up the baby and held Agnes' elbow and helped her to the stair door. "Go on upstairs, lay down and rest..."

Agnes slept fitfully, dreaming of storm clouds, rain, and sand. Sand flying in her face, sticking to her arms...ugh!she rolled over and groaned. This heat is so oppressive! She wiped the sweat from her face and lay still.

What a blessing, baby was such a happy child--Agnes sat up as quiet noises came from Nissa's room. Thump, thump, thump...she heard Jed's boots on the steps. She mopped at the sweat on her face and in a careful fashion eased over to her dressing table. With a small soft brush she pulled the hair back from her face and secured it in a roll on the back of her head.

"Ready to go?" Jed stood behind her.

"Just about. Don't think I'll change clothes. This isn't my best dress, but it should be good enough to sit in the automobile for a ride?" she said smoothing the collar and twirking the sleeves of her light cotton dress into place.

"Peaches, I don't know that I've ever seen such a pretty dress. You are absolutely gorgeous in it," he smiled and winked. "All you need is your hat and we'll be ready to go!"

"Oh, go on with you!" she pretended annoyance, but Jed could tell she was pleased as she picked up her hat from the dressing table and began pinning it in place.

"I'll just get the baby. What clothes do you want me to put on her?" his voice was muffled as it came from the baby's nursery. A little room that had been a large closet just off their room, transformed with a little paper and paint.

"Just a little shift should be enough...too hot to put on more..." Agnes walked to the door. "I'll check the diaper...then we'll be off."

The breeze from the open window was hot, but at least it was a breeze. Agnes leaned her head back and held Nissa securely on her as they bumped along the gravel road into town. Jed parked on the square in the shade of a large maple tree.

"Won't be long," he said as he slammed his door shut and hurried off.

Agnes opened her eyes and watched as the few people out and about walked along the sidewalks. They wandered into the dry goods store, or one of the grocery stores, or joined the group of men seated in front of the feed store along the north side street. The activity down the street caught her eye as several taxis pulled up at the Littleton Hotel, and began unloading luggage from the rail station.

She looked back at the group of men in front of the feed store and saw Jed coming out of the store walking toward where they were parked. How had they gotten past thirty and not been aware of it? Jed was still a handsome man, but where had the years gone between their first meeting...and their life now? How had he become--dare she even think it? --Middle-aged?

He still walked with a spring in his step, that same purposeful gait that he had always had. Was it just a tad slower? She leaned her head back again as Nissa played in the seat.

He opened the door and slid in. Putting the Oldsmobile into gear he drove slowly around the square and parked again...in front of Greene's Ice Cream Shoppe.

He hopped out, shut his door, and before Agnes had time to protest, he opened her door, "A treat for my girls," he said and helped her into the cool parlor.

"We'll take two dishes of cream please," he told the waiter then carried them over to where his girls waited perched on a wire sweet heart chair.

"Now, now," Agnes cautioned as Nissa's pink little mouth puckered up greedily for more. "I don't think Nissa should have too much..." she frowned and continued to give little bites to the greedy baby.

"Probably not, but a little shouldn't hurt, I'd say..."

Agnes noticed some of the passengers from the hotel walking in the door. "Oh, Jed, I shouldn't have come in..."

"What's the matter?" he was dabbing at Nissa's sticky little face with a napkin.

Agnes ducked her head in embarrassment, "I should have at least changed my dress. If I'd known we were getting out," she said thinking about the stylish clothes of the new customers.

Jed looked up from Nissa, to Agnes, then his mouth dropped open for a second.

Agnes just caught her dish in time as he scrambled up like he'd dropped a hot coal in his pocket.

"What a sight for sore eyes!"

Agnes mouth dropped open--for just a second before she remembered her manners.

"Oh! Oh!" and she pushed away from the stylish little table before Nissa did damage to the remains of their dishes.

The air was full of the excited babble of voices each one trying to make them self heard and understood.

"Alright, now," Alistair held up his hands for quiet, and finally quiet reined. "So many questions...let's answer one by one now. First off, we just arrived. Second off, yes, we had a tolerable good time. Third off, now I don't know if that's quite right good grammar...."

"Alright, alright," he held up his hands again. "I see you aren't intrested in grammar right now. "Well, it's like this. We were supposed to be back in two weeks, as ya'll know. A few weeks ago we got this," he said as he pulled a telegram out of his suit coat pocket, "because a' this," and he lightly flopped down a copy of the day's paper. The headline blared: "ALPH THOMPSON TRIAL STARTS MONDAY!"

Jed and Agnes stared at the paper like it was the devil himself, then they stared at each other, and finally they stared at their friends. Someone took the baby from Agnes, and gentle hands helped Agnes and Jed to their chairs.

"We didn't know," Jed spoke the first logical thing in his mind. "We hadn't heard."

"No, of course not," Alistair comforted. "Course you wouldn't...couldn't know."

From somewhere a 'tonic' was handed to the astounded pair. They sipped carefully at the cold concoctions.

"This is pretty good. What is it?" Jed spoke for the both of them.

"Trade secret," David grinned at them. "I used to work at a soda fountain back home."

"Soon's we get through here we'll head out for home. We can give you the details then...Oh, one detail we'd like to add," Alistair took Margaret's gloved hand. "I'd like to introduce you to Mrs. Alistair Brockle," he smiled.

Margaret turned rosy pink, but she smiled back at him. "Alistar!" she exclaimed.

"Well, now, ya'll didn't want these folks to think bad thoughts here, now did ya?" he patted her hand.

"Well, I never!" she rolled her big brown eyes at him.

Gizzmos

2010-01-18T08:58:00.000-06:00

"Well, it will be about two hours," my husband says.

I groan inwardly, and maybe even slightly outwardly. We are waiting for our tires to be rotated and balanced, and that means we get to wander around the store...for much longer than we had anticipated.

We do have some shopping to do, of course, but it goes into slow motion. We stop at the little places to sample different items, the Sunburt Wows, the Whoopti Woos, the shrimps that sing and dance (well, almost). Some of the things don't taste too bad at that, not too sure about the Zigger Zag Zoos--but we continue to wander.

We've been by this spot several times, the spot with the batter dipped something or other--"baked...doesn't have all that oil," the woman with a slight nasal twang repeats her speel as new consumers pick up their goodie on a tooth pick.

"But," the man says as he eyes the treat, "it's the oil that makes it good."

The huckster blinks rapidly like someone waking from a dream. "Well, I suppose so," she looks confused.

Everyone knows we aren't supposed to argue with, or contradict common knowledge, and the common knowledge is that you HAVE to get rid of the OIL!

Later, as we have been around the ring again (and perhaps again) we see the same couple looking at cereals, cream filled doughnuts, cookies, and whatever is behind the glass covered doors.

"That looks like a very good diet item," the man is saying with a sarcastic pucker on his face.

I snicker and elbow my son. We both laugh. Having caught the earlier exchange, I had thought they were people with a different eye for adventure.

Anne of Green Gables always calls them 'kindred spirits'.

My daughter says that I'm a pessimist. My son says that all realists are pessimists. I try to explain that a realist just happens to see the things the way they are and...

It is as if you go through life and see what life is, how people are, and how things happen. Like the show says, 'the good, the bad, and the ugly'. You know how things are, and even though you know how you would like them to be, you prepare for the jolt that comes when it doesn't happen the way you wish it would because the good doesn't come very often. And of course if good things do happen to occur...well, that is just lovely.

Rejoice in the Lord always:
again I will say, Rejoice.
Let your forbearance be known unto all men.
The Lord is at hand.
In nothing be anxious;
but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.
And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus.
(Philippians 4:4-7)

Today

2010-01-10T17:03:00.005-06:00

I cradle a cup of hot coffee to warm my hands, and watch the birds flitting around under the bird feeder. The winter is bitterly beautiful. From an insider looking out it is picture perfect, like a Christmas cards with glittering snow heaped in mounds. Like icing on a cake, so beautiful, and yet....

"Brr!" I shiver as I open the front door and peer up the hill. I squint into the distant white landscape with its blue and purple horizon looking for movement that would...or at least could be my husband returning from the daily chore of feeding and watering our horses. The branches of the trees--God's wind chimes--tinkle as the wind whines softly across the snow.

The images on our computer screen shimmer with the colors of light dancing across the ice and snow. It brings to mind the fairy stories...something you can read in a book. Something you can look at in a picture or a painting, but....

Like the birds flitting under the feeder, we don't just look at the scenery, or just read about it. We live here in the reality of cold. Bitter cold, snow cold, yes, beautiful bitter cold snow. Our world is here.

"So what do you do here in winters like this? Just sit at home?"

My husband is at a vegetable grower's convention held upteen years ago at the air port. A man from California is observing the runways and the snow 'out there'.

No, we put on our 'gear' and go about our daily lives, occasionally getting stuck, digging ourselves out, doing what we can.

Like the poet writes:

TELL me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream ! —
For the soul is dead that slumbers,
And things are not what they seem.

Life is real ! Life is earnest!
And the grave is not its goal ;
Dust thou art, to dust returnest,
Was not spoken of the soul.

Not enjoyment, and not sorrow,
Is our destined end or way ;
But to act, that each to-morrow
Find us farther than to-day.

Art is long, and Time is fleeting,
And our hearts, though stout and brave,
Still, like muffled drums, are beating
Funeral marches to the grave.

In the world's broad field of battle,
In the bivouac of Life,
Be not like dumb, driven cattle !
Be a hero in the strife !

Trust no Future, howe'er pleasant !
Let the dead Past bury its dead !
Act,— act in the living Present !
Heart within, and God o'erhead !

Lives of great men all remind us
We can make our lives sublime,
And, departing, leave behind us
Footprints on the sands of time ;

Footprints, that perhaps another,
Sailing o'er life's solemn main,
A forlorn and shipwrecked brother,
Seeing, shall take heart again.

Let us, then, be up and doing,
With a heart for any fate ;
Still achieving, still pursuing,
Learn to labor and to wait.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow --A PSALM OF LIFE--

Our footprints may not be in the sands of time, and perhaps it would be more accurate to say they are in the snow of life. The encouragement is still ours, let us be doing what we can to encourage the poor souls of this life to turn to the Master for life, for love, and most of all, for salvation.

Really Rich

2010-01-01T11:17:00.006-06:00

So, it's a new year and a new day...Isn't this the day we are supposed to have our 'New year's' resolutions in place?

---I resolve to live better, think better, do better...in short be better...in the new year. So the thought goes.---

"It is better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all."
It is better to have resolved and lost than never have resolved at all. We should treat every day when we rise as if it is the first day of the new year, and consequently as if it is the first day of our 'new resolution'. The first day is always the easiest. We start out eager and committed to our resolutions. It is the second, and the third, and the...that become hard and we falter on those days.

So, here is a salute to this new year and all its (good) hopes, dreams, plans, and yes, resolutions. May all the good things we resolve come true. May we truly live, love, and laugh for the best that is in each one of us. And may we each truly glorify God, and be rich toward Him and those who are a part of His creation.

(1 Timothy 6:17-19)

Charge them that are rich in this present world, that they be not highminded, nor have their hope set on the uncertainty of riches, but on God, who giveth us richly all things to enjoy; that they do good, that they be rich in good works, that they be ready to distribute, willing to communicate; laying up in store for themselves a good foundation against the time to come, that they may lay hold on the life which is life indeed.

Memories

2009-12-17T08:30:00.000-06:00

Memories are our cherished friends. Often even painful memories. We used to ride horses when I was young. Not fashionably, although my sister did ride 'professionally' at one point in her high school years, I never did. When I was very young 2, 3, 4? they called me 'grasshopper', because our pony (Wee Willie Snowball, a little Indian pinto pony from Canada--so someone said--) never went quite fast enough. Consequently, as I rode (bareback) I continually urged him on kicking constantly, and someone watching from the ground thought it looked like a....

I digress from the point--one day as we were being kids, my sister was riding the Morgan-Standard bred horse my Grandfather used as part of his team. During her bridle-less, saddle-less ride the horse decided to go his own way, and hopefully (for him) rid himself of his rider. Streaking under the low limbs of trees in the timber, my sister found it next to impossible to stop her mount. During his run for freedom they came to a spot where there were no trees. Taking advantage of the break (she was crouched low with her head along his neck) she shouted in his ear: STOP! Which he, thankfully did, just long enough for her to slide off before he took off running again.

I'm sure it was just as much a heart pounding experience for her as it was for those of us watching. It didn't last long, and there were only minor scrapes--except for one nasty gouge on her arm. There was no sense to tell adults--other than reprimanding us for being foolish enough to ride with a halter and a rope they would have nothing to add to the situation. She nursed the wound and it would have healed properly except...she continually picked at the spot pulling the scab off.

In the same manner, a bad memory can be a cherished memory. Rehashing harsh words, bad feelings, bad situations becomes habit forming.

Luke 11:24 The unclean spirit when he is gone out of the man, passeth through waterless places, seeking rest, and finding none, he saith, I will turn back unto my house whence I came out. 25) And when he is come, he findeth it swept and garnished. 26) Then goeth he, and taketh to him seven other spirits more evil than himself; and they enter in and dwell there: and the last state of that man becometh worse than the first.

Christians need to fill their lives with good. Sweeping and garnishing our minds and our hearts is like spring (or fall) house cleaning where we get rid of the dirt and clutter. Just like the man above, however, who should have put something good in its place but didn't and received the seven evil spirits back-- if we don't put something good in its place the dirt and clutter will creep back in-- often worse than before.

Philippians 4:7 And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall guard your hearts and your thoughts in Christ Jesus.

8) Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honorable, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things.

Photographs

2009-12-16T09:00:00.000-06:00

I gaze at a photograph from some recent trip, and wonder."What's that picture about?"

"You can take all the pictures you want on our trip," my husband says. Immediately he squelches the moment by adding, "I won't promise to have them developed, but you can take as many..."

Well in light of the fact that I do find, when our pictures are developed that a picture taken on the impulse of the moment often turns out to be the one (or ones) I can't quite remember why I took--THAT picture.

There are the other pictures, a brilliant sunrise, or sunset, a gorgeous flower, bird, or family scene.

"Hey, this is great. We now have one picture out of every three that are our personal pictures instead of one out of eight!" my son says watching the screen saver pictures.

We have many pictures of our Jamaica or Mexico mission trips. Some are our own, and some are ones other members have sent us. We enjoy them, but the ones of family get togethers and personal times are...well personal.
It would be quicker and easier to breeze through life without personal touches...but of course it wouldn't be near as much fun.

Human beings need those relationships that reach out. No, not always the huggie feelie type things. A few words written on a paper, a small gesture, a smile, just a glance that expresses 'I understand', all of these things make differences.

When did our society become too busy? Too busy to observe the common courtesies, the duties if you will, that comfort and ease our paths through this world.

Even more important, why? Many bemoan what has happened perhaps with a sigh, but that is just as they jump up and head for the door...bye, gotta go, see ya later...and the thought is gone.

Let's start looking for ways to slow down and be neighborly. Easier said than done, I know.

Philippians 4:10 But I rejoice in the Lord greatly, that now at length ye have revived your thought for me; wherein ye did indeed take thought, but ye lacked opportunity.

S30 --Another Year Gone

2009-12-07T09:25:00.005-06:00

Gene quietly closed his history book. "Yes, Mr. Pickerel," he replied, stood, and walked with a brisk step to the front. Turning to face the class, he inhaled a deep breath. With a composed air he began, "When in the course of human events, it becomes necessary for one people to dissolve the political bonds...."

********************************

"So, how was school today?" Jed asked as they let the last cow out of her stanchion. "Go on out now Junie!" He gave her a slap on the haunch as encouragement. "Hey, I can get one of them...!" he exclaimed as Gene picked up the heavy five gallon milk cans, one in each hand.

"I know, but it's easier to carry when I have the same weight load on each arm...besides, you can grab those milk buckets... Oh, it was a good day. Any day with David as a teacher is good," his dimples punctuated his grin, and his blue eyes lit up. "He's a challenge to keep up with though."

"Ha!" Jed flipped the barn lights out, and grabbed the milk pails. "That's what he says about you..."

"What's that?"

"He says you're a challenge to keep ahead of."

Their boots crunched in the cold blue snow, and their breath hung in white clouds against the darkening sky as they puffed through the early evening along the path toward the house. Agnes was watching for them and flung the back porch door wide.

"You two look like winter scarecrows, your mittens sticking out of your stuffed coats. If it weren't for puffs of white frost coming out of those mufflers..."

"Well, you're a sight for sore eyes, Agnes. And how's baby Nissa doing?" Jed brought the foamy pails of milk in to the separator.

"She's sleeping now, the little elf!" Agnes smiled. "She's the funniest little thing!"

"It seems like she's always doing something now don't it!" Jed's smile answered hers.

"For being only three months old, she sure seems to rule the house already..."Agnes switched the bucket of skimmed milk for an empty bucket.

"Here," Gene said grabbing the can of left over skim milk..."I'll take this out to the pigs. You stay in and get warmed up, Uncle."

"Good job. Don't mind if I do!" he said unwinding the scarf from around his head.

Taking off his heavy yellow mittens, he shivered and watched as Gene headed back out with his burden. "You know, Agnes, everyday I'm so thankful for that boy, and for baby Nissa."

Agnes took his hat and scarf over to the hooks as he shoved out of his coat. "I just wish there was some way we could have cleared him from those charges. We all know he didn't do it...not the shop keeper's windows, or the money at the hotel. Can't figure it at all. Who would do such a thing, and why?" her face creased into a frown. "In a way it was nice to have him home...you boys had plenty of work to do, and got in some good fishing...and old Shep..." she stopped to fork the pork steaks onto the platter. "Old Shep was in dog heaven with his boy back home."

"You let me finish here," Jed took the platter, "Go check on baby...Gene's coming in and we'll get the food on..."

"It's plenty cold tonight," Jed said after supper, as he scooted his chair closer to the wood stove. "Good to have plenty of fuel. What you studying on tonight?"

"American History," Gene handed him his book.

"I sure don't remember studying this when I was in school," he turned a few pages carefully. "There aren't many pictures in here, are there?"

"No, not many pictures...I'm not sure where David got the book. It's not one they are studying here, right now."

"Well, it looks beyond me," Jed handed it back.

"Let that baby's favorite older brother hold her, would you?" Gene teased Agnes as she came in from the parlor vigorously patting a fat pink bundle of baby blankets. He put the book on the end table, and held out his arms. "There, there!" he took over where Agnes left off.

He was soon rewarded with a healthy burp from the depths of the frilly blankets. "I bet you feel much better now, don't you!" and he began to jounce little Nissa gently as she cooed and smiled.

"Well, they say babies can't smile at this age, but if that's just gas pains, she seems pretty happy about it!" Jed said with a smirk.

"You Wades were always precocious," Agnes said.

"Pre- what? I can't even say it let alone be it!" Jed scowled at his wife.

"Means we're ahead of our times," Gene replied with a laugh and made faces at the baby who cooed back at him.

"Well, let me have that little tyke. Stop hogging all the attention."

"You two! You're going to have that baby spoiled the way you fight over her! She already wants me to hold her all the time..."

"I guess I need to get to bed anyways. I have to be at school early in the morning. It's my month to help get the fire wood in, and have things around for David," Gene stood up and gently handed the baby to Jed.

"How's David been doing this year?" Agnes looked up from a sock she was darning.

"The cold weather and snow has been hard on him...he's not used to dealing with limitations. And I think he's been rather frustrated."

"Oh, that's too bad," Agnes said with a sympathetic note. "Little Eric has been colicky, but he seems to be getting better, and Bessie is doing....well, we'll both be so glad when spring comes. This being house-bound gets old."

"It's not so bad as the old days--with the telephone you can call, and with the automobile at least it isn't as cold on the little tykes when you can get out," Jed said. "I think the little punkin's asleep. You better take her on up and get to bed yourself. I'll bank the stove for the night and be on up."

"Good night then," Gene said. He opened the stair door, "Boo!" he involuntarily sucked in his breath as a blast of freezing air hit him. "It sure is cold! Here, Aunt, let me take baby on up. You just bring yourself..." he took the sleeping little bundle from her.

"Thank you, Gene...Hoo!" Her teeth began to chatter. "You're right--it is cold..."

Metal scraped against metal, and Jed smiled as he prepared the fire for the night. It gave him a warm contented feeling to hear his family jabbering on their way upstairs. It was a complete feeling. Baby Nissa had only been with them for a few months, but Jed could not imagine life without the little darling, or without Gene either...
*******************

"Thank you, Gene," David said as he shivered deeper into his coat. "Don't know what I'd do with out your help."

"Oh, you'd manage somehow...should be getting warm in here soon," Gene rubbed his hands together warming himself in front of the school house stove. The flames sent heat radiating close around the stove. He reached up and adjusted the damper to allow more draft into the fire box. "Yes, more heat, but not too fast."

"Well, I appreciate the help. The rest of the students should be arriving soon..." David said and crisp voices punctuated his words, ringing through the frozen air from outside the school house. "I would like you to come over for a little while after school this afternoon. If you have some time to spare, that is?"

"I can do that...for a little while. What is it?"

"I've got some things I need to discuss with you, but it will wait until then. Nothing too important. Bessie would like the company too. She needs a diversion, she's been housebound too long."

"Aunt was just saying the same thing the other evening. Do you think this snow and cold weather indicates the drought and dust have passed?" Gene stood by the stove in the middle of the school house as David walked to the door to ring the school bell.

"We can surely hope..." David stood on the front stoop and the bell began to clang. "Now, now," he reprimanded occasionally as students filed passed him into the foyer to hang their coats on the pegs, and put their lunch pails on the shelf.

The classes winged their way through the morning, and after the prayer for the lunch time meal the students hurried through their cold sandwiches, hot soups, and some finished with cake, apples or canned fruit from the family larder.

"My sled's bettern' yours!" Sammy Summers hollered at Larry Hill as they threw their lunch pails on the shelf and made a dash for the cloak room.

"Boys!" David's voice commanded.

"Yes, Mr. Pickerell," they both stopped immediately.

"When you are hasty in that manner, what often happens?"

They looked at one another, then back at their teacher. "We are forgetful of others around us..."

"Yes, and then what?" he prompted.

"Someone gets hurt, or...we're sorry, Mr. Pickerell." They bent to help five year old Ruth Goodnite pick up her mittens. "We're sorry, Ruth," they said.

"S'awright," she wiped a tear off her cheek.

"You boys, may go, but you will each need to give Ruth a turn on your sleds," David decreed.

"Yes, Mr. Pickerell," they said.

"Whew," Sammy whispered to Larry. "I'm glad we didn't have to stay in and clean the blackboards..."

"Yeah, me too," Larry whispered back as they pulled on their boots and mittens and scooted out the door. "Come on Ruthie...when you come out we'll give you rides..." they said as the door shut.

Gene stopped winding his scarf around his head and face, "Here, let me help," he held Ruth's mitten up for her as she poked her right hand in, then did the same for the left hand.

"Can you help me with my scarf too, please?"

"Why, sure I can," Gene smiled down at the pixie faced little girl. "Where's Wanda?" he asked about her older sister.

"She's had a cold, and her'n Maude are getting ready for the spelling bee."

"Oh, I see," he wrapped the scarf around her face and tucked the end in so it would not come loose. "That should do it. How's that feel?"

"That is just right," she said pulling the scarf down just enough to speak. "Gene Wade, I don't care what anybody says...I know you didn't break them windows, and when I grow up you can be my beau!" her scarf slid back into place and she stumped to the school house door.

"Out of the mouth of babes," David smiled down at Gene who was still kneeling at the five year old's level.

"I think that was supposed to be a compliment," Gene said standing up. He finished winding his scarf around his head and face, not looking at David.

"Gene?" David touched his sleeve.

"Yes?"

"It was meant as a compliment. She doesn't know anything of the grown up world. Ruthie only looks at the truth in action and knows it for what it is."

"I suppose it's part of knowing something's true--in spite of what might be said."

"Just take it for what it is--a compliment. Don't forget, our appointment after school."

Gene slipped out the door, and found a spot to sit in the sunshine out of the wind. He had a warm peaceful feeling as he listened to the shrieking and laughter of thte children sledding. There was a good amount of snow and the sledding hill was just right. He remembered the camaraderie he had enjoyed for the past three years, and pondered on how it had evolved and changed as he became one of the older kids. Soon, he would be leaving maybe for high school in town, or maybe just leaving for a job somewhere...

"Hey! Wade!" the voice interrupted his thoughts.

"What is it, Howard?"

"Come on and try my new sled."

"Sure. When did you get a new sled?" he stood up.

"Pa, Randy, and Kenny made it for me...birthday last week," Howard flashed a grin at Gene. "Pretty hard ta keep it a secret. You know how Kenny is about spillin' the beans, but he didn't say a word..."

David found school days full and interesting, but he still tired more easily than before the attack. It had been a full day of school, and he sighed as he looked over the blackboards. "You've done an excellent job. You may go now," he dismissed Doris and Don Avery.

"You have enough books here to carry home!" Gene helped David collect his books. "I'll just pile them on my sled...So, how's the new house working out?" they walked towards David and Bessie's, Gene pulling the load of books along behind.

After a silence "It will be planting time again soon," Gene said.

"What was it you said?" David asked.

It was not like David, Gene puzzled. David's thoughts were somewhere else. Gene's eyes scanned the azure blue sky as their footsteps squeaked along the road and up the drive. Something was missing... The field beside the road was barren and white with the glittering thousand tiny jewels shimmering in the late afternoon light. Blue shadows that highlighted the meringue peaked snow were dotted across the landscape. The salt box shaped farm house sat at the end of the drive surrounded by trees. On the north side an acre of twisted and gnarled fruit trees poked at the bitter cold blue winter sky, on the south was the standard large red barn. The view promised that in a few months there would be green leaves, fruit blossoms, and flowers, but...?

"How's the new house..."

"Well, it's like this...I need to be able to check on Bessie and little Eric during the day. I can't leave the school room for lunch time. What I'm wondering is if I could pay you to run over at lunch time to check the fire, and make sure every thing is alright... Bessie's mother comes over as often as she can, but she lives too far away, and..."

"I can do that, you don't need to pay me... Is everyone alright? No colds, or...anything?" Gene could see a little trickle of smoke wisping from the chimney, but not enough for as cold as it was.

"I think if we could keep the house a more regular warmth it would help, but with me away all day...and Bessie isn't able to keep up. If you are willing, then I'll show you what you need to do..."

"All right, that will be fine...." Gene shivered when they stepped into the cold house.
************************************************

"Jed's going to take me to visit Bessie this morning," Agnes said. "I'm so glad that you've been able to help David and Bessie out. Bessie called me today. She says you're a regular good cook... She and the baby are getting on so much better! She's thinking in another week they should both be back on the mend. Now, there's your lunch pail all ready, and don't you worry about taking off on your lunch time."

"It hasn't been a problem, and David has done so much for me," Gene paused to take a forkful of his biscuit, sausage and gravy. "It seemed the least I could do."

"Finding those special school books for you--why, he went the extra mile-- "Agnes said.

"We should be starting spring plantin', you goin' to be able to help?" Jed asked as he ladled gravy onto his sausage and biscuit.

"Jed, you've just smothered your biscuit and sausage...how can you even find them?" Agnes said and laughed.

"Well, darlin'," he said cutting a bite of sausage, "Just watch and I'll show you how..." he winked at her as he scooped the whole thing into his mouth, chewed, and swallowed, "Very good!" he closed his eyes as if in satisfaction.

"Oh, Jed!" she exclaimed, "...is that the baby?" she said and jumped up, "Now, Gene, remember what I said..." and she scurried out of the kitchen.

"Yes, we're about at spring break, and I'm ahead in my school work," Gene said with a frown.

"Ahead in your school work?" Jed exclaimed his eyes growing large with amazement. When David mentioned what a challenge it was to keep ahead of Gene, Jed had not realized what he meant. Jed chewed his food in silence and thought about the stack of books that sat beside the door. "So, what you plannin' on doin' after this school year...goin' to the high school in town?"

"I don't really know, Uncle. Maybe, or maybe I'll just stay at home here and work. Maybe I could get a job with the WPA...or something."

"An education isn't something to throw away, boy. You've come so far..." Jed knew as long as Gene had the charges hanging over him he would not feel free to go on in high school. What a shame. What a down right shame! "I wished I could help ya, Gene. How's David coming with Spike...has he made any progress at getting him to come around?"

"No," Gene stirred his hot coffee and sat staring into the dark brown liquid. "No, he hasn't, and sometimes I think last summer was just a...a dream, a mirage that never really happened."

"Life kinda sneaks up on a body like that sometimes...I sure wished I could help ya, but I just believe we have to be patient. Like David's lesson there awhile back. 'Wait on the Lord. He'll make everything plain'."

"Not soon enough for me," Gene muttered into his coffee. "Guess I'd better get going. I've about a week and a half of school before spring break. Will that fit into your schedule?" he spoke over his shoulder as he carried his breakfast dishes over to the dish pan. "That snow melt sure made things muddy!" he said as he turned toward the door.

"Should be fine. I've got the 'quipment pretty near ready to go...Barney and Sal's ready too. Been a long winter for them, and now all this mud! See ya this after noon..." he called after Gene's good bye.

"I don't know Agnes," he spoke as she brought the baby into the kitchen. "I'm kind of concerned 'bout him. He's still Gene, but this here trouble in town's eatin' at him. I'm praying it doesn't make him bitter. Don't want..." he rubbed a hand over his face, "Aw, I don't know, it kind of gripes me too, but there's nothing to be done 'bout it." He said and held out his hands and smiled at the baby.

Agnes handed baby Nissa to Jed. "More coffee?" she brought the pot and filled both their cups. She sat down and began to pick at her remaining sausage and biscuit. "No, that's what bothers. It's never proved or disproved," she stabbed the sausage absent mindlessly.

Jed jiggled Nissa and smiled at her as she cooed up at him. "I was in ta Robinson's the other day for a can of axle grease," he took a drink of coffee, "I got the real feeling I wasn't welcome in there, and I walked into Gordies'...same feelin'."

"Gordies'? Why, their place isn't even on the square!"

"No, but that's just the way it is. People's kind of divided up, I guess. I went in the dry goods store right beside Robinson's the same day. They lost a window same as Merle Robinson did...they were just as friendly as ever, there wasn't a problem," he said with a shrug.

"Do you think David can help?"

"He's been a strugglin' trying to recover. I dislike asking him, but maybe with spring break coming on and all..."

"I'll be so glad to get out of the house this morning...it's been so long since I've been to see Bessie! Maybe I can ask what she thinks..."
*************************************************

How much different this room looked to David. The first time he sat in the back row watching a young woman with golden hair respond to irate parents and a school board. So many things had happened, so much wind under the wings. The children were familiar now, their lives, their families. A prayer for divine blessing and protection rose in his heart...what would this day hold? How would it end?

As David rapped with his ruler on the desk, "Class, it is time to begin. Turn to the front, fold your hands on the desk in front of you, and I will begin with Psalm eight this morning..." the leaves of his Bible whispered as he turned to the Psalm. "Psalm 8:1" he announced in his deep controlled voice. As he began reading the words swelled out on the quiet morning air like the swell of Jordan River over it's banks, "To the chief Musician upon Gittith, A Psalm of David... O LORD our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth! who hast set thy glory above the heavens.
Out of the mouth of babes and sucklings hast thou ordained strength because of thine enemies, that thou mightest still the enemy and the avenger.
When I consider thy heavens, the work of thy fingers, the moon and the stars, which thou hast ordained;
What is man, that thou art mindful of him? and the son of man, that thou visitest him?
For thou hast made him a little lower than the angels, and hast crowned him with glory and honor.
Thou madest him to have dominion over the works of thy hands; thou hast put all things under his feet:
All sheep and oxen, yea, and the beasts of the field;
The fowl of the air, and the fish of the sea, and whatsoever passeth through the paths of the seas.
O LORD our Lord, how excellent is thy name in all the earth!

He looked out over the room, "Amen!" he said with emphasis. "This is our last day for the spring quarter. Every one here has done a good job, and I feel has put forth great effort to make this a memorable school year. We will now break into small groups to put some last minute practice into our assigned projects. At nine o'clock parents will be arriving for the morning program. The picnic will follow, and a kitten ball game after that..."

There was the scurry of feet and excited tones as the youngsters broke into their groups. In one corner several students began practicing on their recitation pieces. Across the room in the other corner there was a small play in progress, and in each of the back corners there was the nervous flutter of activity as well. David went from group to group correcting, critiquing, and encouraging as needed.

The time flew quickly, while the room buzzed with the students' commitment to their task. As the first of the parents began to arrive, the older students had just draped the back ground curtain across the clothes line borrowed for the program.
*************************************************************************************

"There!" Agnes said as she put the last plate into the hamper.

"Whoa! What did you put in here? Feels like the stove and the sink!" Jed teased as he picked it up and stumped out to the automobile with it. He arranged the hamper and the other few things then with a quiet 'whump' slammed the trunk lid shut.

"Did you leave enough room for Bessie's things too?" Agnes worried as he came back to the house.

"Of course!" he chided her. "Agnes, you do beat all!" he laughed at her concern. "Here, you get your hand bag, I'll get baby, and we'll be off."

"I don't know, Jed. Maybe the air will be too much...for Nissa?" Baby Nissa sat on Agnes' lap and patted the open window with her plump little hand and smiled as they bumped down the road and turned up the lane toward the Pickerell's farm house.

Bessie stood waiting on the porch and they had no sooner pulled to a stop when the porch door popped open and Karena Lewiston began carrying hampers of food toward the car.

"Jed!" Agnes exclaimed as he jumped out and hurried to help.

"You just wait there a moment! I'll help. I'm a comin'..." he scolded. With a quick step he met Karena and took the baskets from her.

"Now all we need are the quilts..." Mrs. Lewiston turned back toward the house and loaded the baskets into the trunk in the place he had prepared.

"How pleasant the day promises to be," Bessie heaved a sigh of contentment. They turned and drove up the soft dirt lane to the school house.

"After the bitter cold and snow of this last winter!" her mother clucked thinking of how the snow had left the roads wet with deep ruts. "Now they are dry and most of the ruts are smoothed out."

"Yes, it is so good to get out of the house after the long winter," Agnes said. "So good to see our neighbors," the automobile glided up the lane. It flowed along the dry path that was accustomed only to the bare feet of the students.

"The Trevor's new Buick is nice looking, don't you think?" Agnes watched as the Trevor family pulled up and parked beside them in the shade of the row of trees.

"Look at that team of Morgans! They aren't as massive as the Avery's Percherons, but they sure can pull...and look at 'em dance in that harness!"

The trace chains jingled as the chestnut colored horses fairly shimmered in the morning sunlight, and the wagon rolled smoothly along the path. The pair of horses, full of spring time sap lifted their feet in a prance as their silky flaxen manes and tails crowned with red and blue ribbons waved with the gentle breeze. Bandit, the Goodnite's trusty border collie, trotted in his usual place beside the wagon.

"Jed, you've always been a gonner for a good horse!" Agnes chided with her characteristic warm smile.

"Can't help it, it's in the blood," he said and watched as the Goodnite family wagon rolled to a stop under the tree closest to the front of the building. Jed's gaze followed Augustus Goodnite as he jumped from the drivers seat to the ground. The well trained team stood still as if tethered, the border collie dog, with one white streaked eye and one black streaked eye, dropped just under the middle of the wagon where he was accustomed to wait for his family.

"Good morning!" Jed called to Augustus as they walked to the school house steps.

"G'd mornin', neighbr!" Augustus called back with a wave. Augustus, dressed in his starched white shirt and bib overalls, his handlebar mustache-- waxed and perfectly twirled-- strode around to where missus Goodnight waited until her husband came to help her down from the seat.

"Morning...Angus, Fred," Jed nodded at the Averys and Summers as they stood in a group at the bottom of the school house steps.

"Mornin', they all nodded in return and the ladies smiled their reply.

Jed stood back to allow Agnes, Bessie, and Mrs. Lewiston to enter first. The other neighbors soon funneled into the school house behind them.

"Dolly, what a lovely dress!" Agnes found a seat behind Augustus and his wife. "I've been looking for some material like that...where did you find yours?" she said as she admired Dolly's dusty rose mohair. "and how did you find that matching cloche? Is that the new style in hats this spring?"

The anticipation hummed in the air, it showed on their faces and in their manners as they took their seats in the school room. The school programs were an outlet for fun and entertainment...and they were important for the families as a gauge on the progress of their children in their studies.

At exactly nine fifteen, David walked to the front, and signaled with his hands for quiet, "Good morning, friends and neighbors. The announcer for our Eagle School District program this morning will be Howard Trevor, and to him I will now turn over the program." David walked to the back to watch out the windows and door. He greeted Mr. Benton, Mr. Hill, Mr. Randall, and Mr. Lewiston, the four members of the school board as they entered quietly. Mr. Randall chose to sit at the back, the others chose seats that looked out into the surrounding countryside.

Howard, dressed in his father's Sunday suit and tie, adopted a solemn attitude fitting his preeminence in the program.

"Ladies and gentlemen, friends and neighbors," he stopped to adjust a fallen suspender. Howard a growing boy of fifteen, had begun on a growth spurt last summer, but the suit was tailored for a much taller grown man.

"We will now have the opening recitations by our two youngest class members." Howard had also borrowed his father's reading glasses thinking they would add an air of importance to his demeanor. He stopped to push them further up on his nose.

"Ruthie Goodnite and Sharon Summers will recite together several selections...." Standing in one spot he did have a certain distinguished air, however walking was a different matter. He made his way to the sidelines placing his steps one foot at a time--with a definite sway.

There were a few chortles from the audience, but--with some difficulty-- they retained their composure and merely smiled benignly as the first pair made their entrance.

Ruthie and Sharon, as primly as a pair of ballerinas in hard brown shoes, clomped across the board floor, and stationed themselves in the front. They stopped and stared at the audience for a full minute. They were almost a cameo pair, Sharon being a light blond, her wisps of hair escaping from her French braids, and Ruthie, her heavy black hair pulled into crisp French braids.

Sharon elbowed Ruthie. "Jack-in..." she began in a loud whisper.

"I know--I know! Let me!" Ruthie whispered back, cleared her throat, and her tiny voice began, "Jack-in-the-Pulpit, Preaches today," she enunciated each word.

"Under the green trees, Just over the way," Sharon answered.

After a pause Ruthie began another selection, "Can you count the stars that brightly, Twinkle in the midnight sky;"

"Can you count the clouds so lightly, O'er the meadows floating by?" again Sharon said her piece.

Another pause, and this time Sharon led, "If you should frown and I should frown, While walking out together..."

"The happy folk about the town would say, "The clouds are settling down in spite of pleasant weather."

Ruthie and Sharon smiled and curtsied, and the audience clapped enthusiastically. The performance would not have pleased them any more if they had just listened to the great singer, Jenny Lind. The two little girls scooted to their seats along the front and side of the room, all pretense of dignity cast aside.

Howard again came to the front. He had polished his father's glasses believing that would help him see better. It did not. He again swayed forward, walking more askew than before. "Next we will have a Science report from Annie and Sammy Summers, and Kenny Trevor," and with as much dignity as he could muster he backed off the stage.

Annie, Kenny, and Sammy were veterans from a number of these programs and their pieces went smooth as butter without flies.

"And now," Howard announced, "we have come to a highlight in our program."

The audience leaned forward in their seats. So far they enjoyed pieces of recitation, explanations of science projects, grammar demonstrations, even math competitions, the program was almost at the end, and what could be better than what they had seen?

"Our older students will perform a play. The play, called-- "Clever Manka"--has a clever moral. I challenge you to see if you can identify what it is... The main characters are: Gene Wade as 'the Judge', Larry Hill as 'Josef--Manka's father', Lila Avery as 'Manka', and..." here he took a deep bow and almost lost his glasses, "myself-- Howard Trevor-- as 'rich Farmer Holtz'. Don Avery as the announcer/narrator...Oh, and my brother, Bill, as 'billy goat'."

There was a titter of laughter at the announced last character. How clever...Bill and Billy; and everyone knew how stubborn--even at five years old--little Billy Trevor could be!

"And so Manka and the Judge went back to their own home...and he was always careful to never speak in riddles to..." the announcer, Don Avery brought the play to a close. The audience clapped enthusiastically as the Judge, Rich Farmer Holtz, the Poor shepherd (Manka's father) and the clever Manka herself, as well as the announcer...and the billy goat, took their well deserved bows.

Well, David thought as each class with nervous anticipation rose to the challenge, at last I can breathe a sigh of relief, for the program at least. Only Maude and Wanda have their song and this school year will be history. If only Howard would put those glasses away... David continued to keep one eye on the outside.

"Friends and neighbors," Howard, slightly ruffled from his change back to his previous finery, the glasses sitting at a crooked angle. "Our last piece for the morning will be..." Howard stopped in confusion, and blushed a rosy pink as the glasses slipped further down his nose. Maude and Wanda waited behind the curtain for their ques. Wanda smiled coquettishly around her grandmother's rose pink parasol. Her black hair loosed from its usual tight french braids fell in soft waves around her shoulders and down past her waist. The matching rose pink dress raided from her grandmother's closet along with the parasol may have been outdated, but Howard was not a fashion expert.

"Ah...Wanda...and ah Wanda will be singing... "Where oh where has my little dog gone?..." he finished his speech and stepped carefully to the back.

"Gene!" Howard whispered urgently, as he snatched the glasses off his nose, but found no where to put them.

"Shhh! Quiet, Howard..." Gene said, his harmonica poised to play for Wanda and Maude.

Howard shoved the glasses at Gene, "Take these things will ya!"

"Sure, now shhh!" Gene shoved the glasses in his coat pocket. He took a deep breath then began to play the introduction to the song on his harmonica...

The men of the school board were stationed by the open windows. The windows allowed the peaceful outside bird song to blend with the inside music. The mid May morning began to warm up. People sat engrossed in the program, and their quiet fans moved with a gentle rhythm. Mr. Randall had opened the schoolhouse door about the middle of the program, and a slight breeze moved fresh air into the school room. What an enjoyable program...what clever children...the parents congratulated themselves...

--David sighed--the program would soon be over...only the picnic to get through...

Wanda Goodnite and Maude Summers began to sing as the harmonica played from behind the curtain, "Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone? Oh where, oh where can he be?" The two young ladies twirled their parasols as they sang, first Maude sang, "With his ears cut short... then Wanda, "and his tail cut long..."

Outside under the wagon Bandit's head jerked up with the singing. He cocked his ears first one way then the next. It had been a lazy morning spent resting under the wagon. Was that his girl calling him? He trotted hesitantly up the steps to the door and peered in. Yes! There she was, calling him! He joyfully trotted through the open door, and click, click, click went his toe nails down the aisle.

David, keeping an eye on the outside as well as the inside, made a dive, but not quick enough to catch the furry intruder. The little dog moved quickly all the way to the front of the school house. There he plunked down, his haunches parked firmly on the hem of Maude's lovely blue gown. He cocked his head to the side, one ear up and one ear down happily panting.

With only a slight hesitation, Wanda and Maude began again,

"Oh where, oh where has my little dog gone..." Bandit yawned, yapped at them and his tail thumped. Maude tugged gently on her hem and tried to move Bandit with the toe of her shoe. He whined and yapped again.

"Pssst, Bandit! Bandit!" Ruthie's little voice whispered from behind the curtain. "Psst! Bandit! she called a little louder. The dog turned and cocked his head in her direction, then trotted toward her, taking the curtain with him....

"Howard!" Gene elbowed his fellow student, as David frantically motioned to Howard. "Howard--come on...get everybody out front with Maude and Wanda..."

"Little kids out front," Howard steered the little classes, and the older ones followed. The boys bowed and the girls curtsied as they had practiced and Bandit trotted out and sat in front.

"Well, folks," David said as the students took their seats, and the applause ended, "I hope you have enjoyed our program. I believe the young students have progressed well this year, and I trust you all agree. Thank you for your attendance...we will break now so the ladies can assemble the lunch and soon have our picnic in place. I'm wishful that you all will stay and enjoy the afternoon activities as well."

Green leaves waved in a soft warm breeze, almost too warm. Spring would soon be over. The tables groaned under their load of food. There may not have been much money, but farm families, and especially farm wives were frugal...and they could cook. The quilts spread around on the grass like so many huge flowers, and people scattered across the lawn made a festive, light-hearted appearance.

"Jedidiah James!"

"Yes, Agnes Sophia?" he gave her an innocent look.

"You have cake crumbs on your clean shirt," Agnes tried to look severe.

"My bib must have had a hole in it."

"And baby Nissa has similar looking crumbs on her pink little cheeks...and dress!" Agnes was shocked.

"Chocolate goes well with pink, and oh, look...I think they're getting up a game, Agnes!"

"You're going to spoil Nissa...oh! There he goes," she sputtered to Bessie as Jed joined some of the other men.

"I don't know which is more like a child...the child or the--man!" Bessie agreed with a laugh. "I think David's afraid Eric will miss out on something."

"Trevor!" Gene called to Howard. "Here's your glasses," he took them out of his pocket and handed them over. "You going to play kitten ball?"

"I think the men're talking it over. Maybe we'll play a few innings..." Howard told Gene as the boys walked off to put their plates back in their hampers. "Say," Howard whispered as he peered cautiously over the top of the hamper lid, "why is Mr. Avery and Mr. Summers glaring at me?"

"Aw, I don't know. He's been glaring at me too..." Gene glared back as the older men stared at the two young boys.

"Angus Avery reminds me of our old bull, short and stout ya know," Howard sniggered behind the cover of the hamper lid.

Gene turned away as he choked on laughter. "Howard, that's kind of disrespectful," he chided, "--even if it is true."

"And Fred Summers is a tall bald bean pole with an Adams ap..."

"Howard Allen Trevor the Third!" his mother's shocked voice spoke from beside her son.

He stopped speaking suddenly and cleared his throat, and straightened up taller, "Yes, ma'am? I didn't hear you coming, Ma..."

"I'm sure you didn't, son...now get on with you! And mind your manners!" she swatted him with a dish towel.

The boys walked over behind an elm tree. Mrs. Trevor could not see them, but from the way they were hooting with laughter...She sighed and shook her head.

"I say it's a shame. That thief and vandal ought not be socializing with decent children!" Mr. Summers scoffed. "Here he is as big as life...just like nothin' ever happened."

"I s'pose I got to agree," Mr. Avery hesitated then nodded his head.

"Say," Fred Summers called out to Orville Hill, "what ya think about that Wade boy associatin' with our children?"

"What do you mean?" Mr. Hill asked confused.

"Well, we all know he stole that money from the hotel, and broke those shop windows..."

"Wait a minute...what do you mean we know...what?" Orville asked.

"He was caught stealin' money, and breakin' those windows..." Fred's Adams apple worked up and down as spoke.

"What do you say, Mr. Avery?" Orville turned his focus to the other man.

"Well...I guess, I got to agree...don't I?" Mr. Avery asked.

"Jerrold...Mr. Lewiston--," Orville called out to his fellow member of the school board.

"Yah?" Jerrold said as he joined the group

"What do you say to Mr. Summers charge..." Mr. Hill asked, "against the young Wade boy? He says the boy was caught stealing money, and breaking windows..."

"I say he is a fourteen year young lad, who was in da wrong place at da wrong time. An dis is da picnic for da last day of school dis spring...an we all ought to have a goot time. I say Mr. Avery, you forget who it was dat saved your Don from getting da daylights knocked out of him-- an him being so sick dat year. Some thanks you got! If you, Mr. Summers have complaint, bring it to the board meeting next time. Now, go have another helping of apple strudel, and we all will have a goot time...and no more of this!" Mr. Lewiston spoke with good humor, but there was an icy glint to his blue eyes.

Mr. Avery hung his head, "Now that I think on it, the children--all of them--have nothing but good to say about the Wade boy..." he said as he walked off with his hands in his overall pockets.

Mr. Summers' Adams apple worked up and down, but no one dared cross Jerrold Lewiston. Of course, Summers thought, Mr. Lewiston and Mr. Hill were--in a round about way related. David Pickerell was Mr. Hill's nephew, and Bessie was a Lewiston...his eyes narrowed...and they were real close company with the Wades... I just don't like it, his thoughts flew around in his mind like a hive of angry bees...I just don't like it!

"It's good for them to have a day of fun," Mrs. Trevor sat on an improvised plank seat.

"Strike three! You're out!" David shouted.

"It's good for us too," Bessie agreed as baby Eric lay sleeping on a quilt in the shade.

"It was a long cold winter," Mrs. Avery said with a sigh.

If a greater pair of opposites could exist, Agnes thought as she flicked a fly off of sleeping baby Nissa, she didn't know how. She watched as Mr. Avery took his turn at bat. He was a short beefy man with black hair and a heavy black mustache, the picture of good health. Mrs. Avery was a thin sallow looking woman with scraggly blond hair.

"Good time for a break for refreshments..."

"Your husband seems to be a might better with the return of spring," Mrs. Trevor, a middle-aged woman of thirty-five spoke kindly to Bessie.

"Yes. Yes, I think we are all improving," Bessie returned her smile. "Eric is over his colic spell, and I'm feeling better too."

"I just haven't never got back on my feet after that trouble I had with the last child birth--the baby we lost, you know," Mrs. Avery said with out emotion. "I just can't seem to get much better...just feel poorly much of the time..."

"Jed, don't you wake up that baby!" Agnes scolded.

"What a game!" he wiped his face with his handkerchief, and dipped his cup full from the water bucket. "Thanks, Randy! Good cold water!" Jed exclaimed.

"You're welcome, Mr. Wade," Randy Trevor set the bucket on the end of the picnic table before running out to join the other boys.

"I think we old men can still play purty goot!" Mr. Lewiston and Mr. Benson dipped some water into their cups also.

"You have an advantage," Jed screwed up his face into a frown.

"Ya, sure, and what is dat?"

"You're Norwegian?"

"Correction...were Norwegian. Now we are American!"

"Ha, ha! That's right! Say...who's that?" Jed watched a flashy red Oldsmobile crept up the lane. "Did some major league team hear about how good we play ball and come to offer us contracts?"

Mr. Benson and Mr. Lewiston exchanged glances. "I think we will wait to see..."

David had seen the dust cloud rolling down the road, and now leaning against an elm tree, he watched the automobile and turn into the school lane. He had hoped his information was wrong, but apparently...

A familiar figure dressed in snazzy suit stepped out of the driver's side, "Afternoon!" he leaned against the open door. "Just came to visit my old school house...and chums," he said with a sly look at the people scattered about, some on their quilts, some on the make shift benches.

The younger boys were gearing up for the ball game. Howard and Gene looked at each other then back at the auto as five more young toughs stepped out and slammed the car doors shut. They lounged up against the auto as Reece spoke again.

"What? No warm welcome? I brought some friends and we wanted to play some ball... who wants to play ball with me and my guys?"

"Ya, we'll play a game with ya, Reece..." Jerrold Lewiston agreed and stepped forward. "Come on out to da ball diamond..."

"Greg!" Reece snapped his fingers.

A dark haired older kid sauntered around to the back of the Oldsmobile and opened the trunk.

"Hey!" Gene whispered at Howard. Howard swallowed as if he had a whole egg in his throat. "Let me have the bat..."

"No," Howard hissed back, "I'm goin' down swinging! There's one behind you..." he motioned to the extra bat laying on the ground.

"What's the matter, Wade?" Reece's face was twisted into a sneer. "Don't ya want to play my game?" the exchange had caught his eye.

In one smooth motion Gene picked up the bat from behind him. He had spent the last five years working outside in the cold and heat, lifting heavy loads, pitching hay, mucking stalls, all the things a farm boy did every day, year in and year out. There was not an ounce of fat on his body, he was wiry and muscular.

"No, we're ready Reece. This seems to be your style...six of you against two. You always were a coward," Gene countered.

"Well, at least I'm not a thief--and one that goes around breaking store windows..."

"In da game of Kitten ball, we only need one, maybe two bats," Mr. Lewiston spoke in a mild voice. "Reece...you an' your pals can put your bats over here."

"Whaa?" Reece scowled in Mr. Lewiston's direction. What was that --chink--chink--? Reece's countenance changed slowly as he looked down the barrel of one after another farmer's rifles or shot guns.

The dark haired young man, Greg dropped several of the bats he carried in his arms. With a clatter they landed at his feet, and the other four young men scrambled to pick them up.

"We have no official rules, of course," Jerrold continued, "but I think we play by our rules, not yours...put your bats in a pile here..." he pointed to a spot by his feet.

The bats again clattered to the ground at the end of the picnic table while the group waited. "Now, you boys come down to da diamond, like I said...an da game we will play," Mr. Lewiston said with a good humored smile, the silver tooth gleamed as he nodded his head agreeably.

"But Mr. Lewiston, we only have six players..." Reece pointed out.

"Not to be concerned...we will choose up teams. You know how we do."

Reece scowled, but eyed the weapons that still stood guard. "But we aren't dressed to play ball..."

Willie and Sam Potter wished they had stayed in town, like their younger brother, Spike had warned them...Greg, Sandy, and Maurice wondered when the next train to Chicago ran.

"You came to play ball," Lewiston shrugged. Our teams are divided up. You three--you are on that team...you other three...there on that team. And we're ready to play ball.

So, this is what country bumpkins were like...Greg, Sandy, and Maurice were confused. Every one from the big city knew these country farmers would be easy prey...what had happened? Play ball? This wasn't the game they had come to play, but...play they would.

The teams took a few practice throws to warm up before Jerrold Lewiston called from out on the playing field, "Let's play ball!"

"Why do you suppose we are so popular today?" Mr. Benson pulled his handkerchief from his back pocket to wipe his face as two more automobiles turned up the lane.

The first vehicle barely pulled to a stop before the door popped open. A man in a grey suit hurried forward, revolver drawn, then stopped short.
He surveyed the country-fied ball field, teams in place and a game just getting started.

"Who's in charge here?" he demanded.

"We were having a last game of ball here, an these young men were anxious to join our game..." Mr. Benson explained. "The game just got started...Why don't you have yourself a plate," Mr. Benson nodded at his wife, Elsie, "and settle back for the game?"

"We had some information that there was trouble here..." the sheriff dropped his gun back into its holster, and pushed his fedora back on his head. He gazed with a puzzled frown at the game proceeding in a peaceful manner. The teams were an odd mix of farm boys dressed in their overalls and either barefoot, or lace up boots, farm caps kept the sun out of their eyes--then there was the other guys...they had removed their jackets, but still wore white shirts, good slacks, and dress shoes.

"Thank you, ma'am, but..." he began to refuse the plate heaped with food that Elsie Benson offered him, when his eyes rested on the rifle leaning against the picnic table. "What is going on here!" his eyes narrowed and he observed several such items close to the hands of their owners.

"Like I said, these fellows were real anxious to join our game, Sheriff."

"Why, thank you, Mrs. Benson," Sheriff Roy had a change of mind. "I do think I'll enjoy this game..."

Of all the school exercises there was only one that Reece really enjoyed...and missed...since he had left this stupid country school...and that was playing ball. He was not good at those other things. Things like arithmetic, spelling, grammar, physiology, Latin--not Reece King. But ball? He did miss playing ball, even with these country bumpkins.

Reece's eyes narrowed against the blazing sun, he wiped the dirt and sweat off his forehead with what had been a nice white sleeve. His shirt wore sweat and dirt stains, that slide into first base had left its mark on his dignified suit, thankfully someone had lent him their lace up boots...loafers were no good for playing ball, and he had never liked the feel of walking barefoot...

Reece stared intently as Gene wound up the ball for the pitch. He had let two pitches go by already--a ball and a strike--he should have swung at the second, the first one was outside, what would this one be? Wade was a good pitcher, you never knew what he had up his sleeve. There was a runner on second, Reece's team was behind two points, and they had two outs. The ball left the pitcher's hand coming at him fast, this was it...Reece swung with every ounce of strength he had, he put everything behind that swing...

Every eye followed the ball as it flew up, and up, and seemed to go forever. It was the last play of the day, and what a way to end! No one seemed to mind that it was Reece King, they did not seem to mind that he could not spell, work Geometry, speak Latin...

"Here's your boots, Trevor..." Reece unlaced the boots and threw them to Howard. "Thanks," he grunted. He slid his feet back into his own loafers.

"S'allright. You weren't going to do anything in those things," Howard motioned toward the 'city' shoes Reece had been wearing. "And I've lived barefoot most of my life," Howard said pulling on his socks and boots. "That was some home run!"

"Yeah...it was a good game...good pitching, Wade," Reece darted a glance up at Gene.

"Yeah, it was a good game, and your pals didn't do too bad either, Reece," Gene said shaking his head.

"They used to play where they were from...guess we're ready Sheriff..." Reece stood up.

"I should lock 'em up on some charges, but what?" Sheriff Roy puzzled. "You know, that last hit was sure something! Even them boys from Chicago didn't do bad!" The sheriff hesitated as his eyes wandered back over the empty playing field. "All right boys, into the vehicles. Reece, my man Lyle there," he pointed to one of his deputies, "he'll drive your automobile back to the station. You boys," he pointed at Reece and his group, "ought to be thankful..."

"Yeah? What for?" Greg from Chicago said rubbing his feet and limping toward the automobile.

"The last ruffians from your Chicago area that visited here..." Sheriff Roy stopped to finish his thought. "Them ruffians stole Mr. Ferrel's team--I think their automobile ran out of gas...anyway, they broke into someone's pantry and stole some food, then they stole ole farmer Ferrel's horses as he was shaving at the pantry mirror that morning...why the whole community was in a hullabaloo! They trailed them folks over to that stand of woods over there," the sheriff pointed to a stand of trees in a hollow about half a mile away, "and shot 'em."

All six young men turned a slight pale color. Sandy, Greg, and Maurice thought the big city sounded a little more safe as they hurried into the waiting autos.

"Thank you, folks for the food...and entertainment, the sheriff said with a wave as the automobile doors chunked shut. "Should do this again...sometime soon, he called out of the open window."

"A tie!" David swirled the coffee in his cup and grinned at Gene. "Did you do that on purpose?"

"Could have went either way...the way I figured we all need a break some time. Reece has a rotten personality, but he's a good ball player," Gene stuck the last chunk of apple pie in his mouth and polished off his milk.

"Speaking of a break, Alistair is taking Mother and the girls on a cruise to Europe. He asked special if you would like to go with us?" the light in David's eyes danced as Gene stopped chewing and choked on his pie.

"Gene Wade!" Agnes scolded and she handed him a napkin. "Next time don't take so big a bite!"

"Not the bite..." he sputtered.

"Don't try to get out of it. I know boys your age!"

"David..."

"He already asked us first. Do you think you'd like to go?"

"Would I like to go?!"

Going Home

2009-12-03T13:49:00.004-06:00

It's Sunday morning, we are driving toward our destination--the church building which is in a town about fifteen to twenty miles from our home. It is a lovely morning, and we are not late--yet--but there is no time to dawdle.

In our neck of the woods one car is a traffic jam, and lo and behold we find ourselves trailing behind another vehicle headed in the same general direction. We are thinking of passing, but the driver in the other car is noticeably weaving. First he is over the yellow line, next he is back in the middle, then over the center, or bouncing along the shoulder.

The first inclination is the person has been tipping a bottle or some such thing, and I think, 'How awful!' But I'm then reminded of the times we have found ourselves so tired, yet so close to home...and we are sure we can --with just a little more perseverance-- make it to our home...

John 14:2 In my Father's house are many mansions; if it were not so, I would have told you; for I go to prepare a place for you. 3) And if I go and prepare a place for you, I come again, and will receive you unto myself; that where I am, there ye may be also.

We traveled along behind for about seven miles watching the vehicle weaving from side to side. When we got to town, he turned at main street just like we did then drove down past the business district, and on out past where our church building sat. That was where we parted company, he going on north and we pulled into a parking spot.

I've wondered a number of times if the person made it on home. I believe he did, but many things flit through my mind during the thought process. You see, we are all travelers, travelers on the highway of life. This blog is about Christians and going home. Some Christians, like the fellow in the vehicle, are weaving all over trying to stay on the road. They are tired. Perhaps they have worked all night and just want to make it home. Perhaps they have wandered off track completely and need a change in directions...whatever the case, this blog is to let others know that someone wants to see them make it home.

Some posts are funny, some sad, and yet others are just thought provoking. They are still here with the intention of helping others on their pilgrim journey to find their way home.

2Timothy 4:8 henceforth there is laid up for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous judge, shall give to me at that day; and not to me only, but also to all them that have loved his appearing.

Home....

Hallelujah. What a Saviour!