Sarah's Promise (16 page)

“Don’t you worry,” I assured her. “I’m not gonna buy nothin’ up here nor settle anyplace without talking to you first. I wanna do for
you
. Not just myself.”

“I love you, Frank,” she said real quiet. “Happy birthday.”

I felt like kissing her. I wanted to. It seemed like awful long since we’d been together, and I wanted real bad to hold her again. “I love you too.”

I had the feeling that there was something else she wanted to say. But maybe I was wrong, ’cause she didn’t get to it even when I asked her. I knew we oughta get off Sam’s telephone line, but it was hard. I missed her more right then than I had any time. But it wouldn’t be long before I could go home. I was done with the stair rail and the closet doors. I’d fixed an attic step and a piece of broken woodwork below the window in Georgie and Albert’s room. Once I was done with Thelma’s cupboards, I could leave.

“Next week,” I told Sarah. “Maybe Tuesday I’ll head out. I’d say Monday, but I better spend some time tomorrow preparing for that church. I might not get the cupboards done till Monday. Wish you were here to read me some Scriptures.”

“Frank, you remember Scriptures faster than I can look them up.”

“I still like to hear it fresh.”

“You’ll do fine. Maybe Thelma can help.”

“Maybe. But I still wish you were here.”

We said good-bye soon after that, and I thought of the long drive to get home. Despite the snow and the miles, I was looking forward to it for the chance to be with Sarah again. Seemed like I was missing her even in my dreams.

17

Sarah

Frank was going to preach! Just like our pastor had predicted. Even if it was just once to fill in like he’d done for our home church, I knew it was the beginning. Surely he had the calling. Thoughts of my silly dream tried to present themselves to my mind, but I shoved them away. He was coming home!

I was thrilled but at the same time trying not to be scared. He might be called anywhere to preach now. There was no telling. And I—I might be looked at as a minister’s wife! Me! With all my foolish foibles. Could I really handle this? Now I understood why our pastor had felt the need to ask me.

What if Frank really becomes a full-fledged minister? People expect things of a minister’s wife. It would be so easy to fall flat on my face!

Despite my uneasy feelings, I was determined to accept whatever Frank chose to do. That would be my “perfect submission,” and I was overjoyed it wouldn’t involve a move to Camp Point. Maybe we’d live in Mt. Vernon or Marion like he’d suggested. Maybe he’d eventually pastor a church.

He’d be home next week, and I felt like dancing around the house. Until the mail came again. There were just two letters, but both of them made my stomach sour. One was from Donald Mueller again. I just gave it to Mom without a word. The other was addressed to Frank, and it was the second letter he’d gotten like this. Mary Ensley. A girl from one of the families Frank had helped. He hadn’t said a word about the contents of her first letter. Now why was she writing to him again?

I showed the envelope to Mom, and she said we might as well hold it since it might not get to Jacksonville by the time Frank left if we sent it on now. I wished I could open it, though I knew those feelings were wrong.

Don’t be a goof
, I told myself.
Mary Ensley must be the blind girl Frank told me about. She’s probably just thanking him for the help.

But that could’ve been in the first letter. What need for a second one?

I felt miserably guilty over those simple thoughts. It was scary to realize that just as I could entertain unfaithful thoughts, I could harbor jealousy and mistrust toward Frank. There was no reason for it. None at all, and I felt like a fool. Yet the feeling persisted.
Frank’s attention, his love, is not all centered on me. Even if it is done innocently as he ministers, he will be giving his heart in other directions. How will I live with that?

I tried singing “Blessed Assurance” again, to take the words to heart:

“Perfect submission, all is at rest. I in my Savior am happy and blest, watching and waiting, looking above, filled with his goodness, lost in his love . . .”

Somehow, instead of inspiring me, the lyrics made me lonely. Especially the line “watching and waiting.” Why couldn’t I dwell on the “lost in his love” part? Why would I be having such selfish worries? I wanted my life to be the Lord’s as much as Frank did, didn’t I?

Mom said Donald’s letter was short and arrogant, claiming I wouldn’t know what I was missing if I didn’t meet him in town “just to talk.” I’m sure she and Dad wondered about me that night. I should have been overflowing with joy and excitement that Frank was coming home. Why wasn’t I? What had changed? Nothing in me, I hoped. And yet I knew that Frank wouldn’t be the same. The distance, and especially ministering to needs, would have worked something in him that I hadn’t been with him to share. He was preaching now. Receiving letters from people in need that I didn’t even know. I felt like he’d traveled hundreds of miles in his walk with the Lord and left me far behind. Would he see it that way? Would he know my shortcomings?

“This is my story, this is my song. Praising my Savior all the day long . . .”

I tried to sing. I tried to rejoice, but the worry roamed free inside me, and I couldn’t chase it away.
He doesn’t want to need me, or anybody. What will that mean?

Saturday, Emmie Grace came over and worked with Mom, Katie, and me baking bread for the coming week for both our houses. Mom was humming almost the entire time, and so was Emmie.

“I knew it,” Emmie told me as the dough was rising. “I knew Frank was going to be a preacher too.”

“He was careful to tell me that he’s just filling in,” I cautioned. “Just a guest for one Sunday evening.”

“It’s a start.” Emmie smiled. “You know there must be a reason they asked him.”

Unlike her brothers, Emma Grace had boundless confidence in Frank. After all, he’d held her hand and comforted her through so many hard times when she was little. In a way, Frank was more like her father than their father had been, even though they were only eight years apart.

“We should make him a cake when he gets home,” she suggested. “It can be a party.”

I knew Frank wouldn’t want any big deal made over him, but a cake among family was a nice idea. I readily agreed, and we decided to bake it on Tuesday, so it would be ready Tuesday night or Wednesday, whenever he got in.

The next morning at church I asked for prayer for Frank because he would be speaking that night. Our pastor was very pleased.

“I wish I could be there,” he said.

“So do I,” I told him, but I was glad it would only be one time up there. Then maybe he’d do more speaking around here where Emma Grace and I and all the rest could attend. I could hardly wait till he was home.

When evening came and I knew it’d be time for Frank’s service, I couldn’t stop thinking about him preaching. It had gone so well the time he’d done it at our church. Surely this time would go well too. I wasn’t worried for him. Just a little for myself. I’d once heard our pastor’s wife tell my mother that people look at a minister’s family differently. Expectations are higher. They automatically think you to be holier than average folk, though the notion is ridiculous when you think about it. We’re all just people, prone to mistakes. No getting around that.

I went outside with Dad when he was milking. He looked older than he used to, with a touch of gray at the temples. I couldn’t help asking him the question on my heart. “Dad, will it be strange when Katie and I are moved out?”

“Very strange,” he answered solemnly. “It already is with Robert gone. But hopefully you’ll visit often, and we’ll visit you too. It’s just part of life.”

He was filling water troughs when I left the barn to check the chickens and make sure they had feed and water for the night. They were fine in their roost, all but the one Mom called “Silly Hen,” who liked to perch on the windowsill or a ceiling rafter.

It didn’t take me long to get done in there. Stepping from the chicken house, I started to sing a hymn again. The moon picked its way from behind a cloud. Suddenly from out of nowhere, giant paws were all over me. I almost screamed, but then I realized what this was.

“Big dog?” I shoved hard. “Get down.”

He obeyed me, but not before slathering his tongue in a sloppy dog kiss across my cheek.

“Dad! Guess who’s back!”

The big dog bounded around me twice and then ran to meet Dad as he came out of the barn. Dad stood stock still at first, and then greeted the big critter with a friendly pat. “Well, Horse. You’re looking good.”

He was. And happy too. He was thrilled to see us, and even happier when we got him some food. “Horse?” I asked Dad.

“Sure. People used to ask me if I’d ever get a horse. And he’s so big. It just seemed to fit.”

“So is he ours?”

“I guess. If he wants to be.”

Mom came out to greet the dog, glad to see him looking so well. Katie wasn’t as happy. She stood in the doorway, but she didn’t come near. I understood how she felt, at least a little. But I was glad to see the big animal back. And he was just in time.

The next day a strange car pulled into our drive and the dog let us know in no uncertain terms. It turned out to be Rorey with Eugene Turrey. They’d come like they promised. But Horse didn’t think they belonged. He barked and growled awful, especially at Eugene, until Mom managed to call him off. I couldn’t help being a little surprised because the dog had always been so gentle for us.

I think Eugene smelled of liquor, and the dog didn’t like it any better than I did. If Mom realized, she didn’t say anything, but sat them down at the kitchen table for a cup of hot cocoa. Rorey was wearing a dress that she shouldn’t even have tried squeezing her bosom into. She talked on and on about St. Louis and how great the city was and how much they loved their apartment and Eugene’s job and such. And I found it all very hard to listen to. They were already sharing an apartment; they had been for a long time, without even stopping to consider that a shame.

I knew the Scriptures said not to judge. But it also said to be separate and not live like the ungodly of the world. Rorey didn’t care. She’d never cared what the Bible had to say. She used to tease Frank over quoting it when we were kids and would get downright mean about it. So I shouldn’t have been surprised when she reacted with a scoff when Mom told her Frank had preached in Camp Point last night. It wasn’t big enough news to warrant more than a moment of her attention. She started talking right away about some friend of Eugene’s who was part of a honky-tonk band.

And then out of the blue she told us she wanted to have her wedding right in our yard, because it would be beautiful in June with all the greenery and flowers. She wasn’t even asking, just informing us, like it was something we should have thought of ourselves. Mom didn’t promise anything. She only said she’d talk to Dad about it when he got home from work. But in
our
yard? Three days before my wedding? It almost seemed like she was purposely trying to be difficult. I was glad Frank and I were planning to be married in the church. At least she wouldn’t be disrupting the preparations there.

She talked on and on about the band-member’s girlfriend, whom she planned to invite as a bridesmaid, and another new friend that worked in the butcher shop below their apartment. And then suddenly they were ready to leave again, to go visit Eugene’s family and some of his friends in town.

“Have you stopped to see any of your brothers and sisters?” Mom asked Rorey before they got out the door.

She shook her head. “I figured you’d probably want to have them all for dinner tomorrow, since we’re here. We can see them then.” And they scurried to the car. Mom had to yell at the dog again to get him to leave Eugene alone.

I stood on the porch for a minute watching them drive off, scarcely able to believe Rorey’s crassness. How could she have gotten so ill-mannered and disrespectful? My mother and father had done so much for the Hammond kids, and the rest acknowledged and honored them in their own ways. But Rorey seemed to think she could walk in here and use them for whatever was convenient to her.

Mom turned her attention back to the laundry, not letting Rorey’s appearance interrupt any more of her day. But I thought of Frank, due to be on his way home tomorrow. I was almost ashamed to think it, but I hoped Rorey and Eugene would be gone by the time he got here. They both liked ridiculing him, pushing for a reaction. Mom hadn’t told them he’d be back, and I was glad.

I prayed for no problems or delays on Frank’s return trip, and for peace when he got here. There were so many things to think about. Not just Rorey and Eugene, or Kirk and Bert and their attitude. There was also Donald Mueller. How would Frank react to that? Did I even need to tell him? I hadn’t been able to bring myself to when we’d talked on the phone on his birthday. I hadn’t wanted it wearing on him as he prepared his sermon.

I wished I could get rid of the feeling that everything had changed. I wanted the world the way it used to be when we’d had nothing but farm chores and a few wood orders to think about, and then settling down in the evenings with Mom’s reading or Dad’s stories. But we weren’t kids anymore. Frank had moved on. My parents, and these farms, were not the center of his life anymore. For better or for worse. And I wasn’t sure what that would mean.

18

Frank

I woke up Monday morning anxious to get back to Jacksonville so I could get my work done and get home to see Sarah. I’d paid for a room for the night in Camp Point even though I prob’ly could have stayed with one of the church folks. I didn’t want to impose on any of them, but one sweet old lady’d asked me to stop by before I left town so she could give me a pie. I’d protested, but she said she liked to bake pies for folks and I’d cheat her out of a blessing if I didn’t let her.

So I got dressed, reciting in my head the directions she’d told me. She lived on the west side of town, a couple blocks up from the train depot. I prayed for her and her church, not expecting that I’d ever be back there. Then I prayed for Sam and his family. None of us would be seeing them again till the wedding.