Promise of Yesterday (18 page)

The old man’s expression puzzled her, filled with an emotion she could not discern. It was as if the men warred on a level she could not understand. Cooper looked away first.

If Chester noticed anything amiss, he didn’t let on and instead tugged the Bible across the table to himself. “Zed read Absalom and David.” He flipped back a few pages. “Read about David’s wrongs.” He fastened his gaze on Cooper. “Father done wrong first. Hurt others.”

Marylu wished she understood what was going on between Chester and Cooper. “David wronged Uriah.” Was Chester referring to his friend betraying him again? She couldn’t wrap her mind around what it had to do with Cooper, though.

Chester used his finger as he read. She leaned in close to see the verse highlighted by his finger and helped when he struggled to sound out the words of II Samuel 12:15. They took turns reading a scripture, until the Bible went to Cooper. He stumbled over the reading of the eighteenth verse and finally passed the Book back to Chester, the scripture unread.

“You getting sick again?” Marylu asked.

He shrugged and shot out a cough. “I’m fine, just not feeling much like reading.”

She didn’t believe Cooper for a minute, but something about the mulish glint in his eyes told her not to push. Marylu returned her attention to finishing up the Bible reading through the twenty-first verse. She motioned for Chester to pick up reading.

Zedikiah frowned as Chester finished reading verse twenty-five and closed the book.

“Makes me miss my mama awful bad.”

“She want you be good man,” Chester admonished in his slow, halting speech. “Work hard.”

“It took David awhile to really see how much wrong he’d done,” Marylu inserted.

“Did I do wrong?” Zedikiah asked. “Is that why He took my mama?”

Chester shook his head. “No. You young.” He stared at Marylu with a pleading look.

“What I think Chester is meaning is this. You have to trust He wants what’s best for you, and sometimes it means people we love die sooner than we want. We can learn other lessons then. How to grow up and be strong.”

“Chester just found out his own mama died while he was away. Should he blame himself for her dying?”

Zedikiah stared down at his hands. Beside him, Cooper shifted and covered his face. Chester’s gaze met Marylu’s.

“No. I know lots of people who’ve died,” Zedikiah finally answered.

“God comfort you. Make you strong. He be your God,” Chester added.

Marylu nodded her agreement. “And we’ll be your family.”

The boy’s brown eyes held the telltale sheen of tears, and Marylu stretched out her hand, palm up. Zedikiah clasped hers. A deep sob shattered the moment. Cooper’s heaving shoulders told the tale.

Chester went to the man and braced a hand on his shoulder. “Cooper?”

But all that could be heard were the sharp intakes of breath, followed by shuddering sobs.

Beside the man, Zedikiah looked scared.

Marylu slipped her hand from his, her gaze bouncing from Chester’s to Cooper.

Cooper moaned and rocked on the bench.

“Cooper?” Marylu bounced to her feet. “You’re not sick, are you?”

Her only answer was deep, aching moans.

She swung her legs around and went to Cooper’s side. “Here,” she directed Chester. “You and Zedikiah lift him and lay him out right here.”

“No,” Cooper snapped and lifted his head. “Just let me be.”

Chester touched Marylu’s elbow and gave a sharp shake of his head. Surprised by the silent command, she stood for a minute as he crossed the room and flung open the door. He cast a look back at her that begged her to follow.

“This is becoming a habit. Slamming in and out,” she said. The night air held a distinct chill that it hadn’t an hour before. “What is it?” she asked as she crossed her arms and rubbed her skin to ward off the cold.

He faced her, eyes searching her face. “He loved you. Long time ago,” Chester finished.

Marylu shifted her weight. “He told you that?”

He nodded.

Cooper had been in love with her? She set aside her confusion over the direction the conversation had taken and thought back over the years. Cooper had become a fixture in the McGreary household after being rescued off the wagon with the others. He had known Walter, and when Walter left, he had stayed. But love? She couldn’t remember Cooper ever indicating love for her. Sure, they sparred and picked at each other. But love? She shook her head in answer.

Chester’s eyes drilled into her. He seemed to be searching for the answer in her face the way his gaze raked over her. “Never fight?”

Restlessness crept over her. “You mean, did we ever fight?” Why wouldn’t Chester just say outright what he was after? His tongue might be injured and his speech slow, but surely he knew she would hear him out. She pulled her gaze from his and skimmed along the ground, again pushing herself to remember something, anything.

She remembered once, about a year after Walter left, that Cooper’s mood had become surly and she’d gotten fed up with his biting answers and snappish comments. “If you can’t say something nice, then get out of here. Take yourself on a long walk and don’t come back until you’re able to talk nice.”

Cooper’s eyes had sparked fire. “Maybe I will, and maybe I won’t come back. Doesn’t seem you’d notice either way.”

Marylu recalled the way the back wall had shook from the force of the door slamming behind him. He hadn’t returned for two full days and two full nights. She’d worried that the McGrearys would notice his absence and blame her. Only the then-young Jenny had asked about Cooper. Marylu had told her exactly what had happened and recalled how the young woman’s eyes filled with tears.

But that had been a long time ago and the biggest argument she could recall having with Cooper.

“What?” Chester’s voice urged. “You remember?”

She shrugged. “It was nothing. I told Cooper to leave one time until he could stop being so mean.”

Chester’s eyes widened. “You young then?”

Her exasperation rose. “What are you getting at? What does this have to do with anything?”

Chester reached out and captured her hand. His eyes begged her to understand. “Be patient.”

Marylu heaved a breath. “I was young, yes, about a year after we got everyone out of that wagon.”

“Tell me.”

She bit down on her impatience and reviewed the incident before relaying it, verbatim, to Chester.

“That’s it.” Chester nodded and he released her hand, caught up in some mystery that she did not understand.

“But it was a long time ago. Surely he don’t still love me now.”

Chester licked his lips. “Maybe not. No matter.”

“I don’t understand. He loved me. Why does it matter now?”

“You not love him back. He left. Two nights.” He paused, holding her gaze. “How old is Zedikiah?”

She processed the change in subject and how the two might connect. Dottie, Zedikiah’s mother, had come up pregnant. No father had ever been named, and Dottie had never said a word, though she always seemed interested in talking to Cooper when she got the chance. Marylu gasped. “Cooper is Zedikiah’s daddy?”

Chester steadied her. “Makes sense. He cry earlier. Zedikiah talk about his daddy.”

Her mind tripped along the new path of thinking Chester had paved. “It does make sense.” And something else occurred to her. “Jenny. She knows something.”

Chester drew his brows together in question.

“Her and Cooper have been keeping something secret. I’m sure of it. And it all came about as talk of Zedikiah’s been coming up more and more.” Marylu realized if it were true that Cooper had fathered Zedikiah, it had happened, in part, because of her. She closed her eyes and renewed her commitment to help the boy. “I didn’t know how he felt, Chester. He never said a word. I mean, never
those
words.”

Chester responded with a nod and a gentle caress against her cheek.

“Do you think he’s telling Zedikiah right now? Is that why you left?”

“No. Not all.”

She had saved him again, and she didn’t even know it. A trembling started in his chest, and he pushed aside thoughts of Cooper. What mattered to him now was God. His mama’s God.

“You said Zed not blame for mama’s death.”

Marylu’s lips parted. “Why, of course not.” He felt her question as their eyes met. “Do you blame yourself?”

He had banked himself in the feeling that bad things happened to him because he somehow was not good enough. While some grew bitter, he had grown distant. But more than that, Marylu’s statement to Zedikiah had pulled an answer from him that surprised him. “I always thought God was for my mama. Her God.” He swallowed, wondering if she understood what he meant.

“He is your God, too. He can be if you open your heart to Him.”

For so long he had thought his religion sufficient. He’d gone to the little church in the South because his mama had gone. It always felt right somehow because he knew his mama’s faith was real and figured his would be, too. But it wasn’t, he realized. Even over his mama’s grave, he had known something was missing from his heart. He understood now. It was as he had said to Zedikiah, “He’ll be your God.”

Tears rushed down his cheeks.

Marylu held out her hand. “Chester?”

“Want Him.” He pulled in a shuddering breath. “In here.” He stabbed at his chest then brushed the wetness from his cheeks. He didn’t know what to do, so he did what he had seen his mama do. He got down on his knees.

Marylu knelt beside him, her tears mingled with his.

They walked back toward the house hand-in-hand, spent and exhausted, yet Marylu felt flush with the victory Chester had won. The kitchen remained well lit, and Zedikiah sat at the table alone. The sight of the young man squeezed Marylu’s heart anew. “You set yourself down, Chester, and I’ll serve up some apple cake.”

Zedikiah raised his head. A small smile teased along the edges of his mouth. Chester emphasized his approval by rubbing his stomach. He chose the spot next to Zedikiah that Cooper had vacated at some point. They spoke in low tones, Chester’s responses short and slow, Zedikiah’s longer and more drawn out.

She cut generous slices of the cake and breathed a prayer for Cooper. If what Chester suspected was true, how could the man have denied his own son? Zedikiah’s drunken binges had gone on for months. If Cooper had stepped in after Dottie’s death, he could have prevented much of the boy’s wildness. She considered the dull edge of the knife in her hand and considered how hard it would be to penetrate the tough hide of Cooper’s conscience. And here he had sat, night after night, listening to God’s Word and never letting on.

How was she to know he’d go off and do something so irresponsible? And if she had known, would it have made a difference? Cooper was too old for her now and had been too old for her then.

She set the dishes in front of the men and stared at the clock over their heads. Maybe she should check on Cooper, but no, she was too angry. She decided the best use of her time would be to work with Chester on his reading and speech.

They worked for another hour, with Zedikiah getting into the methods she used to show Chester how to work his tongue. When the front door opened, her concentration shattered. Chester caught her eye, darted a glance at Zedikiah, and then gave her a meaningful look.

She rose from the table with a smile at Zedikiah. “Why don’t you work with Chester while I go check on Miss Jenny?”

As Zedikiah and Chester worked over the slate, Chester’s mind worked on another level entirely. The boy had a gift for teaching and seemed to know quite a bit. Probably something unknown to most since he spent most of his nights drunk and a good portion of his days in a drunken stupor. He’d put on weight since eating Marylu’s cooking and had begun to lose the sickly hollowness beneath his cheeks.

Chester saw himself in the boy. Lost. No one to guide him along the way, resulting in an indifference to people, and to life and all that it entailed. As Zedikiah looked through the Bible for a passage to work on Chester’s reading, he felt a stirring in his spirit. Ruth’s admonition to go and make a life for himself joined with the stirring and swelled. This would be his life. Marylu. Zedikiah. Cooper, if the man would allow. Perhaps even Miss Jenny, if she welcomed him into the circle.