All That Lives (49 page)

“Not so, Kate, cherries are my most favored summer delight and these do look delicious.” I could tell Mrs. Johnston felt sorry
for my mother, educated as she was in our long suffering, and she wished to save the discussion from Kate’s vulgarity. Though
Mrs. Thorn glanced uneasily her way, she took the bold step of tasting the fruit. “If you don’t mind,” she said as she plucked
a cherry from Kate’s lap.

“If ye then, being evil, know how to give good gifts unto your children.” Mrs. Batts stood, apparently addressing the Spirit,
quoting from the Scripture, requesting further gifts. She held her apron at both corners, hoping more fruit would fall.

A wicked doer giveth heed to false lips; and a liar giveth ear to a naughty tongue!

“You would be the one to know of that! Offend me not!” Kate gathered her apron in one hand and rested the other on her massive
hip as she spoke to the empty ceiling. “The Lord knows my faith is true. A gift is as a precious stone in the eyes of him
that has it. ’Tis written in the Proverbs.” She turned to Mrs. Johnston, who was slowly chewing to the pit of her cherry,
casting a serious, doubting glance at Kate.

“Verily, Kate quotes the Scripture accurately,” Mother interrupted, sighing. “Please take the fruit home with you, we have
more than enough.” The ladies hastily rose, realizing Mother had suddenly tired of visiting.

“Be well, Lucy dear, we shall call again.” Mrs. Johnston took Mother’s hand in her own, patting it affectionately.

Chloe had prepared muslin bags full of fruits and nuts for the ladies and I helped her distribute them at the door. All the
way down our path we heard them discussing excitedly the health benefits of fruit from the Spirit. I laughed and realized
suddenly I had experienced a moment unafraid and without anxiety. It was pleasant to suck on cherries in the winter and to
laugh, knowing Mother was well and protected by the Spirit. I wondered if it could be possible that we were finally to reap
some benefits where pain had previously been sown.

Sunday morning, Mother requested I take a basket of fruit for the congregation to enjoy at church, and I set out in the buggy,
driven by Zeke, along with Drewry, Richard and Joel. The snow had mostly melted but the ground was still hard and dead and
the branches were completely bare. The thicket and the hedgerow were a mass of gray brambles, reminding me of the tangled
basket of old wool Mother had asked me to wind. I was grateful to have left it behind. Though it was still very cold, a pale
sunlight glinted in the sky, a gentle reminder spring was coming. The clopping of horses’ hooves on the roads through the
woods multiplied as we grew closer to the church and met our neighbors. Thenny’s father’s carriage crossed the bridge into
the yard just before ours. Excited, I adjusted the basket of fruit in my lap. Chloe had wrapped it well in a summer muslin
cloth so the cherries and grapes would not spill from the edges. The churchyard bustled with talk as we rode in and I heard
neighbors greeting neighbors, checking their Sunday invitations to meals following the service. It felt like a long time since
folk had gathered at our house. Zeke stopped the carriage and the boys climbed out ahead of me. I had to make certain the
basket was secure on the floor before I climbed down myself. Straightening my coat I looked for Thenny in the yard, but did
not see her.

“Come, sister,” Drewry called to me from the church steps as the Reverend’s treasured brass bell began to ring. I hurried
to join my brother and we entered into the church in silence, walking quietly to our places in the pews. Reverend Johnston
stood in front at his wooden pulpit, nodding greetings and waiting until the church had filled and the clanging bell had died
away to begin his sermon. I was wearing a new red velvet bonnet Mother had stitched for me during her convalescence and the
satin ribbons tied under my chin tickled my neck when I breathed. I knew it was wrong and sinful of me, but my greatest excitement
in coming to church was the possibility Josh Gardner would be present, and I had seen him, sitting behind and to my left.
I felt his gaze on the back of my head and I hoped he did plan to speak with me.

“Today we are in the house of the Lord together,” the Reverend began. “May we be blessed with the Spirit of the Lord!”

“Amen.”

“Let us rise and sing his praises. A charge to keep I have …”

“A charge to keep I have, a God to glorify.”

The congregation sang together mightily and as I opened my throat and let the song pour forth I felt a surge of warmth and
happiness within, for with Josh’s eye on my profile I felt my faith in God’s good nature returning inside me. I was exalted
by the many true voices joining my own. It crossed my mind to stand and proclaim “the Spirit of the Lord is in me,” as Old
Kate liked to do, but I thought better of it. I knew there were still those amongst the congregation who felt I was to blame
for all our troubles, and I wanted no aspersions cast and no excess attention. It ought to be enough in the house of the Lord
for me to feel exalted and for Him to feel me feeling it, and I hoped He would.

I recalled my promise to Mother and as soon as the sermon ended, I made my way straight to the buggy, wondering if it would
be too brazen to fetch my basket up to the Reverend to hand out at the door of the church. I pictured myself standing beside
him, distributing the delicious fruit, but what would be the response? I was nervous and uncertain how to go about my task
when Thenny tapped me on the shoulder and I turned to see her two gloved hands outstretched in the shape of a cup.

“Might I have some cherries from the Spirit, Miss Betsy?” she joked and giggled, pleased to see me. “My mother has told me
everything!”

“Yes, you must!” I surprised her, undoing the muslin cloth so quickly cherries fell from the edges onto the floor of the buggy.

“My, Betsy, you have fetched them
here?

” “Mother believes we should share our good fortune with our community.”

Thenny helped me gather them up and followed my example in popping every other one into her mouth. We had not spoken since
Father’s funeral, but the resentment I had felt toward her gossiping about me on that day had completely dissipated, and I
was very glad to see her and share her company. I wondered what she knew of Josh. Under my bonnet ribbons I cast my eyes about
to see where he was and I saw him striding across the lawn, away from his father’s buggy, toward us.

“Miss Betsy, what a pleasure to see you, beautiful as ever and long missed.” Josh took my hand in his and I blushed. Thenny
was impressed with his forward nature and stood with her mouth hanging open for a moment before quickly thinking to tease
Josh.

“Wait till you see what she has in her basket!”

“Some sweet summer fruits from the tropics.” I pulled my hand from Josh’s and reached for a bunch of grapes from the basket
to give to Thenny. She dangled it in jest coyly before Josh’s mouth, daring him to take one in his lips. He took a step back,
raising his eyebrows in mock fear.

“I hear say such fruits will rot your insides and turn your brains to worms, is it not true?”

We dissolved into laughter at his expression and yet our giggles did not last long, for Mrs. Thorn hurried over to us and
her stern expression reminded me briefly of Father.

“How fares your mother, Betsy?” Mrs. Thorn brought silence to our party.

“Very much better, thank you. She asked I might give you more fruit to carry home, as we have such a surplus.”

“Most certainly,” Mrs. Thorn replied with a smile, but I saw her look nervously sideways under her bonnet at Mr. Thorn, to
see if he was watching her stash away bunches of grapes and plums in her coat. He would have been hard-pressed not to notice
something was happening at our buggy, for as if there was one mind within the congregation, more people now approached.

“How fares Mrs. Bell?” cried Kate, huffing from the back of the crowd. She probably wished to be certain I had noticed her
and would save some fruit for her to take home to Ignatius, but her calling out had the effect of turning the crowd’s attention
toward her, thus enlarging the circle.

“She fares well, and requests those who wish to, come away today with a sampling of the sweet summer fruit provided by the
Spirit at our home.” Though I was nervous, I used the opportunity of an audience to broadcast my purpose.

“Taste it not!” cried a voice from the back and I recognized Dr. Hopson’s wife, Abigail, out on the edge.

“I have tasted it and suffered no ill effects.” The Reverend strode confidently down the hill from the church doorway, defending
me. “The Lord works in ways mysterious to us. We know not how these fruits have come here, but clearly they are healthful
and good in the dark winter, and the mark of the Devil is not on them.” He strode right up to me, and picking a peach from
the basket, he took a bite.

“Reverend!” Mrs. Hopson was clearly upset. “I have seen everything! When a man of the cloth preaches he has eaten the fruit
of a demon and claims to suffer no ill effects! I will not come again to this church, for Satan must now be in your soul.”
It was a heavy charge to be levied at the Reverend, especially before so many, but he bore it well. He raised his voice for
all to hear and quoted the Gospel of John.

“Beloved, believe not every Spirit, but try the Spirits whether they are of God: No man hath seen God at any time. If we love
one another, God dwelleth in us, and his love is perfected in us. We have known and believed the love that God has for us.
God is love; and he that dwelleth in love dwelleth in God and God in Him.”

A spontaneous chorus of Amen! rose from the crowd, and the Reverend carried on.

“I say these offerings come in the purest Spirit of the Lord our God, a miracle provided to heal the soul of a woman so good
and kind in our community that God has visited on her severe afflictions to show us what He means by the right true path,
and by purpose and love. God has made Mrs. Lucy Bell a widow and an example for all of us, Mrs. Hopson, and I pray, rethink
your decision to taste not the sweet summer fruit offered here.”

“That’s right, Reverend,” someone called, and another shouted, “ ’Tis so! I heard those who taste the fruit have been improved.”
There was a nodding of heads and murmur of agreement about the yard and people pushed forward to get nearer to me, to take
a sample of the Spirit’s gifts.

Mrs. Hopson turned her back to the crowd and began walking to her carriage where the doctor was waiting for her.

“It was not God that made Lucy Bell a widow, Reverend,” she called loudly back, over her shoulder, and I knew we would not
be seeing her or the doctor at our church again. The Methodist service of Calvin Justice was closer to their home anyway.
I would not miss them. Hands reached out for fruit and I loaded them up. Thenny helped me do it, but we were somber, especially
compared to our earlier mood. Vernon Batts came up behind me and hissed in my ear.

“Does the Devil’s fruit taste sweet to you, Miss Betsy?” I threw a plum at him, but he caught it fast and laughed, turning
away. I hated his mean accusations, but hearing my mother described as horribly afflicted and a widow did more to dampen my
good mood than Vernon’s evil talk. I was relieved when the basket was emptied and with well wishes for my mother, the crowd
thinned and departed.

“Thenny, come now!” Mrs. Thorn called my friend away and there remained only Josh Gardner and my brothers.

“Miss Betsy, might I trouble you for a ride to the crossing?” He touched my arm as I folded the muslin inside the empty basket
and I felt my face grow hot.

“The crossing?” I repeated stupidly, not knowing how to answer.

“My father must ride to John Polk’s house and I would prefer to make my own way home, which I can easily do through the woods
from there.”

“Of course, we will gladly take you.” I felt somewhat flustered, as I did not wish to draw any further attention from the
community with my actions and I was not certain what the Spirit might say about me riding in the buggy with Josh at my side.
At the same time I was loath to discourage him in any way, as I had truly missed him. I climbed up and he climbed up and sat
beside me and we waited silently while Drewry and the boys climbed in. We were so close I could feel his sweet breath moving
the air around my face. Drewry caught my eye under my bonnet edge and raised his brows in question, and Josh turned to speak
to him.

“It won’t trouble you to provide a lift for me to the crossing will it, Drewry?”

“No, ’tis no matter at all.” He leaned out the door instructing Zeke and we set out, in silence. I was conscious of Josh’s
thigh and shoulder as we bumped down the rutted hill toward the bridge, and I tried to lean as much toward the side as possible,
lest Josh think wrong of me rubbing up against him.

“A lovely sermon, wasn’t it?” Josh attempted polite conversation, but I kept my eyes on my skirt and my gloves in my lap and
not on the red velvet ribbon at the edge of my face, for I could feel Josh’s eyes on my cheeks, and without my control, I
felt them growing ever warmer, until I was certain they gleamed as red as the ribbon itself. Richard and Joel burst into a
fit of unexplained giggles and I leaned forward and swatted at them, as you do at flies, with the muslin cloth from the basket.