June (13 page)

June drew her back into her arms for another close embrace. "Oh, Sam! God can! Tonight I'll request special prayer for her at services."

Sam brightened. "Would you, lovey? I'd be most appreciative!"

"I'd pray regardless, but don't you worry. God can have your aunt feeling better in no time." Draping her arm around Sam's boyish shoulders, June steered her to the only chair in the room.

Sam glanced around the small quarters, grinning. "Got yourself a quaint little place here."

Regardless of the size of her new home, June was grateful for the shelter it provided. The complex was old and drafty, and Ettie was forever saying Reverend Inman desperately needed to build a new one-but, of course, that would take money, money the ministry didn't have. "I'm comfortable here, truly I am. And everyone is so good to me."

Sam elbowed her with a knowing wink. "Suppose that includes 'ubby! I'll wager all of London 'e's not com- plainin'. Considers it to be quite the cozy place for 'imself and 'is smashing new bride."

June's face fell. In all the excitement she'd forgotten about Eli. "No ... Eli isn't complaining. Didn't you get my message?"

"Message?" Sam tilted her head, a sly grin on her face. "Are you pullin' me leg? I didn't get any message." Her features suddenly sobered. "Is somethin' amiss?"

"Sam ... my husband-to-be-Eli Messenger-passed away before we could be married."

For a moment the words didn't appear to have registered. Then Sam's hand shot to her heart, and the color drained from under her freckles. "Passed away? As in ... died?"

June sank to the side of the bed. Poor Sam, the news must have come as a shock. She'd paid a messenger one nickel to go to the orphange and inform Sam about Eli's death, but apparently the scallywag had fled with the money. It was still difficult for her to think about Eli's untimely death, much less talk about it. She reached for a hankie on the nightstand.

Sam knelt by the bedside to console her. "Come on, now. 'e isn't really dead, a young man like "im. You can be honest with me, lovey."

June shook her head. "He's gone, Sam."

"Well, 'ow dare 'e!" Sam stood up, ready to fight. Her eyes scanned the tiny quarters. "Now where did the rogue run off to? Never you worry, lovey, 'e'll not get away with breakin' your 'eart. We'll hunt 'im down like a dog, we will, and when we find the scoundrel we'll-"

June took a deep breath and interrupted her tirade. "Eli is dead, Sam. When I arrived, Eli was very sick. Remember? Reverend Inman met us at the dock? Everyone thought Eli was getting better. We barely had time to introduce ourselves before ... well, before the Lord called him home."

Sam whistled under her breath. "Oh, dear. Then 'e is ...'

June nodded. "Dead."

"Oh my ... how awful. So sorry, lovey. What a bloomin' rotten turn of luck."

"I'm trying not to question what's happened. God called Eli home. I don't understand why, but I know there must be a reason."

Nodding, Sam blew her nose, which was suddenly red with emotion. "Aye, me auntie says there's just some things we aren't supposed to question." She was silent for a long moment. "Still, it's a bloomin' shame. Just a bloomin' shame."

June nodded. "A bloomin' shame." Once the tabernacle was built, she would feel obligated to return to Cold Water.

Sam sat down at the table, toying with June's hairbrush. "So, what will you do now?"

"I'm going to stay on and finish the work Eli started."

Sam looked up expectantly. "And what work is that, lovey?"

June explained the tabernacle and how Eli and Reverend Inman shared the same dream. There was so much she wanted to tell Sam, so many hopes, so many fears. "I've collected over two hundred dollars in the short time I've been here."

"Ow, now that's lovely. It's like me mum says. There's nothin' a woman can't do if she sets 'er mind to it."

June dried her tears, hope overtaking her pessimism. If God had a purpose for her, he would sustain her. Leaning across the table, she clasped Sam's freckled hand. "We have so much to talk about. Can you stay the afternoon?"

"Yes, today is one of Auntie's better days. I needn't be back till time for evenin' chores."

"Wonderful! Are you hungry? Would you like to go for a walk? I'll ask Ettie to bring-"

"Whoa, whoa! I'm not 'ungry." She patted her flat stomach. "Gettin' fat as a hog, I am. All those beans and potatoes. A nice, brisk walk would do me heart good!"

Elated to be reunited, June happily agreed. A day with her best friend was exactly what she needed.

On the way out, the women stopped by the kitchen and pilfered two large buttermilk biscuits, generously spread with Ettie's blackberry jam. In between sticky bites, they giggled and caught up on the news.

"Has your Aunt Angie been sick long?"

"Aye, but she's worsened over the month. Some days are better than others. To look at 'er you'd think there was nothing amiss." Sam licked blackberry jam from between her fingers. "Doc says it's 'er 'eart. Plumb worn to a nubbin, it is. I'm not surprised. She's given a 'unk of it to everyone who's ever needed it. And she is gettin' on in years, you know."

"How old is she?"

"She says seventy-three, but I think it's more like eighty." She took a bite of biscuit, chewing thoughtfully. "Me mum says it's only a matter of time. Can't bear the thought of losing me auntie, but it's the children's plight that pains me more."

"The orphans?"

"Aye, the poor wee tykes. Don't know what will happen to them when Auntie passes on. She takes in stray kiddies like some folks take in abandoned kitties."

June was afraid she knew the answer. Cold Water had a small orphanage. It was run down and needy, managed by an elderly couple who loved children. When Edward Rugby died and then a year later his wife, Millie, passed away, the poor babies were left with no one to look after them. If Aunt Angeline died, her orphans would undoubtedly be fated to be uprooted again. "What will happen to the children?"

Sam's face firmed. "They'll stay together, if I have me say about it."

"You? Sam, you can't possibly take on such a responsibility by yourself. How old are you?"

"Seventeen, come next winter."

Barely sixteen, and this girl with a heart of gold was willing to give her life in service to the orphanage. Sam stiffened with pride. "I can do it, I can! Sick as Auntie's been, she barely pulls 'er share of the load now. Taught me a thing or two, she has. Besides, I got O1' Joe." She grinned. "And even though Joe might be pushing eighty, he ain't goin' nowhere. Leastways, not anytime soon. He's fit as a fiddle and strong as an ox."

"O1' Joe who?"

"O1' Joe-the Indian man. You remember-he came to fetch me the day we got here."

June did recall an elderly white-haired gentleman standing beside a wagon with Angeline's Oiphanage painted on the sides.

"Sam-is he dangerous?"

"Dangerous?" Sam had a good laugh. "Ol' Joe? 'e's about the nicest Yakima you'd ever want to meet."

June paled. "What's a Yakima?"

Sam laughed all the harder. "You're a bloomin' innocent! Yakima is a native tribe that live in these parts."

"Where did Aunt Angie get O1' Joe?"

"Where did she get him? Ain't like she fetched 'im from the mercantile along with the rest of the supplies."

June felt incredibly foolish. "Of course not. I just meant-"

"Ow, I know what you meant, lovey. No matter. O1' Joe just showed up on Auntie's doorstep one day, cold, hungry, nowhere left to go after the war."

"War?"

"The war-you know, the nasty dispute the settlers had with the Yakima a long time ago."

June was impressed with Sam's knowledge of the area's heritage. She didn't know a thing about any war.

"Joe was much younger then. 'Course Aunt Angie was too. e needed work, and Aunt Angie sure needed 'elp, so she took 'im in and 'e's lived there ever since. Been a real godsend, 'e 'as."

"If an Indian ever showed up on my doorstep, I would be scared to death," June confessed. "Here's one of my favorite places." She stopped at the edge of a small pond.

Sam rolled her eyes. "Ya big scaredy. It was a bit spooky at first. Neither Auntie nor Joe could speak each other's language. And their customs were so different from each other's. They must have made quite a sight."

June smiled, picturing the colorful aunt and the Yakima. "But it all worked out?"

"This is a beautiful place, June." Sam leaned over and picked up a rock to skip across the pond. The water shimmered like glass in the bright sunshine. "Worked out quite well, actually. First they taught each other their native language, which, according to Auntie, was no easy task. But I suppose the most difficult part was adapting to each other's customs. Auntie Angie reads the Bible every night. As soon as O1' Joe could understand the words, 'e couldn't get enough. 'e used to be called by his Yakima name. Auntie thought it proper he be given a Christian name. She settled on job. Joe liked that, liked it real well. But it didn't take long to see it wasn't fittin'.

"Joe didn't have a whole lot of patience; still doesn't. So, on one of'is particularly testy days, Auntie jerked the job off, and she's called 'im Joe ever since."

June laughed, recalling how Aunt Thalia lacked patience too. "Did Joe make her smoke a peace pipe?"

"O1' Joe? He'd been choked if 'e'd dared to try, but Auntie did make 'im do the dishes. Took 'im forever to get the knack of it. 'ates it, 'e does. Been tryin' to get out of it ever since!"

June sighed. "I don't know, Sam. It all sounds so scary to me.

Sam paused to look at her. "Joe doin' the dishes?" She giggled. "Nothin' scary 'bout it, lovey. Joe teases that 'e's the only Yakima in these parts with dishpan hands!"

"No, no, O1' Joe doesn't sound scary; it's scary that your aunt is ill and the children will have no one if something should happen to her."

"Aye, that part is scary, it is. They'll have Joe and me, but we won't be able to do much to 'old it together. Auntie's barely able to keep food on the table and shoes on the kiddies' feet."

"You're sure O1' Joe is harmless?" June kidded.

Sam solemnly crossed her heart. "Honest Injun!"

Both burst into laughter. June was relieved to lighten the mood.

"Seriously," Sam said with great certainty, "Joe's real good about helping. Chauffeurs Auntie and the children anywhere they need to go. Tends the garden, chops wood, hauls water. Whatever needs doin', he's right there. I don't even think of him as an Indian, a Brit, or a Yank, for that matter. He's just a decent man."

June agreed. Yakima, white, or any color of the rainbow, he was one of God's children. He need be nothing more, and certainly he was nothing less. She stood. "Come on. I have something I want you to see."

The two young women walked across the meadow and turned to climb a small rise.

"Where are we goin'?" Sam bent over and rubbed the backs of her legs. "Me dogs are killin' me."

"Your dogs?" June glanced behind her. She hadn't seen any dogs.

Sam lifted a heavy boot and pointed. "Dogs."

"Oh, your feet!" June laughed. "Well, let's shed these boots."

Sam didn't need a second invitation. She dropped to the ground and stripped off the heavy leather boots. Her feet were generously sprinkled with the same russet freckles as her face.

June quickly joined her, and soon they were both barefoot, wiggling their toes with newfound freedom. Tying their boot strings together, they slung the shoes across their shoulders and started up the grassy embankment. It was far too cold to be going barefoot; the abrasive blades of grass were like icy needles beneath their toes.

"Isn't this the grandest thing!" Sam wiggled her freckled toes in ankle-tall weeds.

"It's marvelous!" June felt lighthearted and carefree for the first time in weeks. Aunt Thalia would have apoplexy if she knew June was going barefoot this soon.

"You never did say where we are 'eading."

"You'll see." June wanted to surprise her. "I'm taking you to a special place that will suck the breath right out of you. A sight unlike any you've ever seen!"

Sam eyed her curiously. "I'm not terribly sure I want to 'ave the breath sucked out of me."

June laughed. It was wonderful to feel young again! "Look, Sam! Another pond. This one has cattails!"

"Cat's what?"

"Cattails-come on. Let's pick some!"

"Have you lost your bloomin' mind! What would we do with a bouquet of animal tails!" Sam protested as June pulled her toward the water's edge.

"You'll see!"

The girls busied themselves picking cattails, arranging them in a huge brown bouquet.

Sam waded out of the water and handed hers to June. "Here, lovey. I think you've lost your bloomin' mind."

Smiling, June took her hand, and the two girls raced back to the rise. When they reached the top, they paused to catch their breath. June pointed below. A single white cross stood alone in the peaceful meadow.

"They're for Eli. I try to bring fresh ones whenever I can."

"Oh, lovey-" Sam took her hand-"I'm sorry."

"You needn't be." June smiled. "Eli's in a far better place. I bring the cattails to remind passersby what a wonderful person he was."

Sam frowned. "Shouldn't you be bringing flowers?"

June gave her a pained look. "Sam, where would I find flowers this time of year in Seattle?"

"I say, I quite forgot for a moment where we were. Cattails are just fine."

The two women placed the bouquet on the mound of fresh dirt beneath the white cross. For a moment they stood in silence, paying their respects to Eli Messenger, a young man buried beneath a simple cross with a crudely engraved marker that read, "Asleep in Jesus."

June's hand crept into Sam's. "He would have been a very good husband."

"Aye, that 'e would, lovey. The best."

Halfway across the meadow, the ground sloped to a tranquil valley. The view was mesmerizing. Tall pines stretched into the flawless blue sky. The spicy scent of pine perfumed the air.

"Wow!" Sam murmured. "Do you suppose heaven must look a bit like this?"

June glowed. "Do you like it?"