The Winds of Autumn (23 page)
But Gramps went on. “You know Lou about as well as anyone does, Joshua. How do you think she is doing? I mean, way down deep inside?”
I thought I understood the question then, but I hesitated some before I answered.
“Good,” I finally responded. “Quite good, I think.”
“Thank God!” said Gramps and I knew he meant it from the bottom of his heart.
“Has she talked about the baby?”
“Yeah. Just a few days before I left to come home.”
Gramps raised his white, bushy eyebrows. “What did she say?”
“Said she thanks God that He took the baby. Said that Amanda”—it was hard for me to call the baby girl by her name— “that Amanda is better in heaven. That she would have suffered a lot if she’d lived—and been made fun of, too.”
Gramps shook his head slowly, then sighed deeply.
“She’s right, Joshua. She’s right.”
Then Gramps said something I thought very strange.
“There are many things worse than death, Joshua. Many things. Oh, I know it is hard for those left behind. I still miss your great-grandmother terribly. Some days I think I just can’t go on anymore without her, but God helps me and gives me strength and grace for each day.” Gramps stopped to wipe his eyes, and then he went on, “That’s not just a pretty phrase, you know, ‘strength and grace for each day.’ No, those are words with a lot of meaning. A lot of truth.”
We walked on. I tried to tick the tree branches with the tip of my fishing pole without getting myself hung up on any of them.
Gramps went on. “When one is ready to meet his Maker, prepared and forgiven, then death is a welcome thing. I would not wish your great-grandmother back to endure the suffering of this world. Not to bring me comfort for even one day, one hour. I love her far too much for that.”
It sounded strange to me, but I knew Gramps meant it.
“Lou is right about her little girl. She is much better off in heaven.”
There was silence for many minutes. I thought Gramps had put aside his thinking on death, but he hadn’t.
“When it comes time for me to go, I hope folks remember that I have finally had my hopes realized. That I have been taken home. I’ve felt lonesome for heaven for a long time now, Joshua. Ever since your great-grandmother left ahead of me, I guess. I can hardly wait to get there—can hardly
wait
to get there! Every day I have to ask the Lord for patience—for just a little bit longer. No, Joshua, I hope that no one,
no one
will ever grieve long for me.”
My eyes were big and my heart thumping as Gramps said his feelings. I hoped with all my heart that God wasn’t listening. He might decide to answer Gramps prayers right then and there. The very thought of it scared me half to death.
I started to try to voice a protest but Gramps kept right on talking. “Your great-grandmother’s passing did bring about one good thing, Joshua.” He paused and reached a soft, once work-roughened hand out to lay it on my arm. “If she hadn’t left me, I might never have gotten to know you.”
I swallowed hard. It was true. I blinked back tears when I thought of how I had fought against the idea of Gramps coming to join us—at first, that is. Now that he was here I wondered how we had ever gotten along without him.
“It’s been good, my boy.” Gramps had never called me that before. “I have loved our checkers, our chats, our choring,” and he ruffled my hair, “and most of all our fishing.”
I bit my trembling lip.
“You’re a good boy, Joshua. I’m mighty proud of you.”
There were so many things I wanted to say to Gramps. Like how I loved him, how much I enjoyed his companionship, his help, his just
being there
. Like how much more fun it was to come home to the farm knowing that he was there. But I didn’t say any of them. I just didn’t know how to put all those things into words.
“I’m getting to be an old man now. I’ve lived a full and good life. It won’t be too much longer until the Lord calls me on home to join your great-grandmother. I won’t need to be patient for much longer now.” There was another pause. We were almost to the farm buildings now, and I guess Gramps figured that whatever else he had to say to me had to be said quickly.
“You are still very young. Your life stretches out before you. Don’t waste it, Joshua. A life is far too precious to waste.”
Mr. Foggelson had said that too, only a little differently. He had said that a mind was too precious to waste—a good mind.
“The most wasteful, shameful thing that one can ever do is to fight against our Maker. He has only your good in mind, Joshua. His plan is the best possible plan for you to follow. Now, I don’t know what that plan is. Only God knows. But whatever it is, Joshua, don’t waste time and energy fighting against Him. Life is too short for that—even though right now it looks to you like you have almost forever. I’ll be there waiting for you, Joshua, but when you come, I want you to come triumphant, because you have served God with all your energy, all your years, all your manhood—not head-hanging and ashamed. Do you understand me, son?”
I nodded. I thought I did.
“Let Him lead you, Joshua—every step of the way. Don’t ever question Him and don’t ever detour off His path. It’s far too costly.”
I nodded solemnly. I wondered if Gramps had been reading my mind. It made me feel a mite uncomfortable.
By then we were entering the path that led up to the house. I knew that Gramps had no idea of the turmoil that was going on inside me. I was glad. I wouldn’t have wanted him to know. He would have been ashamed of me. Of the way I had been thinking and feeling.
I was glad we were home, that I had chores to do. I was anxious to slip away by myself so that my feelings wouldn’t show. I was swallowing hard to keep the tears from coming. I knew Gramps hadn’t said his words to upset me. He loved me and had no idea of the thoughts I had been burying deep inside. The thoughts of hate for Jack Berry. The doubts and frustrations about the Bible and evolution. The bitterness about little Amanda Joy. The feelings about God not caring for His people. I was glad Gramps couldn’t see my heart. He would have been saddened by what he found there. I loved Gramps and would have died before I would have intentionally hurt him.
I tried to give Gramps a smile before we parted company but it was a bit shaky.
He patted my shoulder once more and gave me one of his big smiles that twitched his trim mustache and made his eyes twinkle. I loved Gramps. I hoped he would be with us for many years to come. I just couldn’t imagine what life would be like without him.
I
DID A LOT OF THINKING
during the next few days. The conversations I’d recently had with Willie and Gramps kept playing over and over in my head. My conscience told me that what they had said was true. I knew I had no rights that gave me the privilege of hanging on to anger and bitterness against Jack Berry. God had commanded us to forgive others, even when they had given us cause to hate instead.
I knew, too, that baby Amanda truly was better off in God’s heaven. Grandpa had talked with me about some of the severe abnormalities of the baby. If she would have lived—and Doc could see no way that she could have possibly survived, but if by some miracle she had—she would have needed hospitalization and many operations to make it possible even to feed her. We would have loved her, we all knew that, but she would have suffered terribly, both physically and from mistreatment by others.
But I still blamed God. Not only for the fact that baby Amanda was born as she was, and then died so quickly, but because Aunt Lou had needed to face it all alone.
Old Sam hadn’t gone back to his drinking like I was sure he would. He was still holding down his job and keeping himself and his rented room neat as could be. He was taking good care of the church as well, and sang, intelligibly now, as he worked.
I went to town at least twice a week, stopping in to see Aunt Lou and to help her with her garden. I split and carried the wood for her, too. Aunt Lou was getting stronger every day, and though she still grieved over her baby, the anguish was gone from her eyes. She could smile again and she could even laugh. I loved hearing her sing the old hymns softly to herself as she went about her daily tasks.
“Isn’t it wonderful to watch Sam polish up the church?” she said to me one day as I sat at the kitchen table. She probably thought of that ’cause I was polishing up a new fishhook I was dying to try. “Whoever would have believed that God could change him so much.” She went to stand at her kitchen windows, one hand holding back the lacy curtains so that she could watch Old Sam washing the church windowpanes. She laughed softly.
“That’s silly, isn’t it? Of course God can change a man. He changed me when I asked for His forgiveness. It just shows up in different ways, that’s all.”
She let the curtain slide back into place and returned to her bread-baking.
“When I think how Nat nearly didn’t go that night, it scares me.”
I looked up then. Aunt Lou noticed and continued.
“Oh, Nat wanted to go. He wanted to go very much, but he didn’t want to leave me and Amanda.” Aunt Lou was finally at the point where she could talk about Amanda, even call her by name, without weeping.
“He knew he should go and he longed to go, but he wouldn’t leave me. It was awfully hard for Nat. I had to
insist
that he put his calling to the ministry before his family. God was asking him to go to Sam! There was no one else to go, and an hour, two hours, might be too late, forever. Doc was with me. I knew I’d be all right.”
Aunt Lou gave the bread one more brisk roll, then plunked it back in the pan and gave it a firm pat. She recovered it with the clean, white kitchen towel and pushed it back out of her way.
I was still chewing over her words.
Aunt Lou
had insisted that Uncle Nat go to Old Sam. I hadn’t known that.
“How did Uncle Nat feel when he got back?” I asked, trying not to let Aunt Lou know that the question was loaded with all sorts of implications and accusations.
“Poor Nat,” she said, her eyes clouded. “He felt just terrible. Not only was he grieved with losing our baby, but he was so sorry he hadn’t been there with me.”
I nodded.
He should have felt that way,
I reckoned. And God could have done something about the whole thing.
“I told Nat that it was okay. That I knew why he was gone. I prayed for him the whole time he was away that God would give him the right words, so Sam would understand how much God loved him in spite of his sin—that God was waiting to forgive him if he’d just ask.
“And—“ Aunt Lou hesitated. “This is hard to put into words, Josh, but it was the strangest thing. I didn’t miss Nat. I mean, I felt like I was there with him, sharing in his ministry to Sam, and I felt that he was here with me, sharing in the birth of our first baby. I think it was God—I mean, I think because God has made us one, and because it was a special time for both of us, that God sorta bonded us together in love even though we were apart.”
Aunt Lou reached out a hand to my shoulder and smiled.
“I’m sure that none of this makes much sense to you, Josh. Maybe someday, when you grow older and fall in love and marry some sweet girl, you will know more what I am talking about.”
“You’re right,” I nodded. “It don’t make much sense. I thought you wanted Uncle Nat right there with you.”
“Oh, I did,” she quickly responded. “And if it would have been for any other reason that Nat wasn’t there, I would have been really upset. I mean, if he’d been off fishing or just off with the menfolk chatting or something—but it was his duty, not his desire, that took him away from me, and I can understand and accept that.”
“His duty?” I muttered.
“Yes, he had to go. Sam needed him.”
“You needed him, too. He left you all alone—”
“No, not alone. Never in my life had God seemed so close. He was right there with me, wrapping me in His love, holding me tight when I needed comfort.”
Aunt Lou stopped for a moment as though once again sensing the special feelings of those hours spent with God. Then she went on again. “No, Josh, it was Sam who needed Nat. He might have died without his sins forgiven and gone out into eternity without God.”
“He didn’t even die,” I reminded her.
“How were we to know that? At least he was ready that night when he was afraid he might die, ready to call on God for forgiveness. If Nat had missed the opportunity, Sam might have thought that Nat really didn’t care and he might never have become a believer.”
“I dunno,” I said carelessly, still polishing the new fishhook. “Seems like pretty bad timing to me.”
Aunt Lou crossed back to the window and lifted the curtain again. She stood there watching Old Sam, her eyes brimming with tears. They spilled down her cheek and she didn’t even bother to wipe them away.
“Seems like perfect timing to me,” she said in almost a whisper. “At the same moment I was losing the child that I wanted and loved, God was reclaiming one of His children for His very own. He loves Sam as much—no, even more—than I love Amanda Joy. Every time I think of little Amanda, I am reminded of the night, the very hour, when Sam came back to the Father.”
Aunt Lou just stood there, the tears still unchecked on her cheek. Then she let the curtain drop again and turned to me with a trembly smile.
“God received two children that night, Josh. One through death, one through rebirth. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
Summer slowly crept toward autumn. The School Board decided to let Mr. Foggelson have one more chance and school started as usual. I only missed the first week to help with the harvest. Then it rained so I hustled to town to try to catch up on my schoolwork.
I didn’t admit it to anyone, but I was relieved that Camellia wouldn’t need to move away. I went to see Camellia again on Thursday. I felt rather funny and uncomfortable about it, but because I enjoyed her company I went again the next day before I headed to the farm for the weekend. Mrs. Foggelson joined us for tea. I tried to relax and enjoy her tea and pastries, but I felt her sharp blue eyes upon me, as though they were trying to pierce through me to find some answers. Was I going to compromise like she had done? Would I let her down? Had Mr. Foggelson, with his sharp mind and his eloquent tongue, gotten through to me just as he had to her?