Lightning and Lace

chapter 11

On Sunday morning, Travis had much to be thankful for. He had a fine new home. His congregation had surprised him yesterday with food and other household items for a pounding, and for the first time since he’d been placed in Travis’s care, Zack had dinner. Of course he complained about Travis’s cooking—comparing it to what he’d cleaned out of horse stalls.

“You have a choice here, Zack,” Travis had said.

He frowned. “What’s that?”

“You could do what you’ve done for dinner since we started keeping company.” Travis stabbed the shoe-leather pork chop. “Although, I’m having second thoughts about it too.”

Zack frowned. “How much bread do we have?”

“Enough for us to split it.” Travis picked up the loaf of bread given by one of the church folks. He tore it in half and gave Zack his portion. “We can split the gravy.”

“Is this the best you can cook?”

“You’re welcome to try anytime you like.”

Now Travis glanced at the front pew and nearly laughed at Zack. Heavy eyelids slid almost shut. He must think that sitting on the first pew gave him the right to sleep. Not in God’s church where Travis preached. He’d already warned Zack that they’d discuss the service during lunch. His gaze took in the rest of the worshippers. Mrs. Kahler, with Michael Paul and Lydia Anne, slipped into the back pew.

He remembered the first time he had seen the children’s mother—a little angel with a crown of pale gold. From all he’d seen in this short amount of time, she was trying to live her life for the Lord. Instantly, he chastised himself for concentrating on Bonnie Kahler instead of God. Hadn’t those kinds of thoughts gotten him into enough trouble? Except Bonnie Kahler had nothing in common with Felicia except that both women needed help putting their lives in order. He smiled at the reverend and Mrs. Rainer. How wonderful to someday have a woman sitting beside him, supporting him . . . loving him when he’d made mistakes.

“Good morning.” Travis raised his hands to signal the beginning of the service. “‘This is the day which the Lord hath made. We will rejoice and be glad in it.’ This morning I’m rejoicing because of a new home that’s filled with food, furniture, and all I need to be more than comfortable, supplied by God and all of you wonderful people.”

“Amen,” said Jake Weathers.

Travis nearly laughed. That old man had to be older than the town and had a voice that reminded him of rumbling thunder.

At the close of the service, Zack disappeared. Maybe he’d seen his mother and wanted to avoid her. One of the families had invited Travis for lunch, and normally he’d have accepted. But this family didn’t know about Zack, and Travis wasn’t so sure the boy had found his manners well enough to attend a social event. Today the two of them would eat Brother Travis’s cooking. Not real appetizing, but they wouldn’t starve.

At their new home, he found Zack sitting on the front porch. He had changed from his Sunday clothes into overalls—dirty ones. Tomorrow Travis needed to wash clothes, and Zack could help.

“You left in a big hurry.”

Zack frowned. “I saw Mama there.”

“She’s a member of our church, too.”

“I thought she’d stay home.” He shrugged. “Mama doesn’t like unpleasant things. Tends to stay away. But I think she’s changing.”

Travis sat on the step beside him. “How?”

“Like she’s gotten religion or something.”

Travis laughed. “Does that bother you?”

Zack picked up a stone and tossed it toward the street. His silence was all the response Travis needed.

“Your mama wants to get stronger. Be a good mother. She wants good things for you too.”

The boy threw another stone.

“She drinks.”

Travis had to think about his answer to this one. Mrs. Kahler drank spirits?

“You don’t believe me, do you?”

“I never accused you of lying.”

“Well, she does. Every night in her room. I’ve seen the bottle on her nightstand, mostly near empty and empty. Papa used to say only a weak person drank.”

“And you think your mama is weak? Is that why you don’t have any respect for her?”

“She doesn’t care about us. Just herself. I bet she’s been sitting with Miss Rosie at Heaven’s Gate and not even thinking about us.”

“You mean you, Michael Paul, and Lydia Anne?”

“‘Course. Who else would I be talking about?”

“Well, Zack,” he said. “I have it on good report that she took Lydia Anne with her to Heaven’s Gate, and Michael Paul was at school. I saw her yesterday, and she asked about you and asked when she could see you.”

He stiffened. “She probably wanted to know how soon I’d be ready to leave for military school.”

“Not at all. What she wants is her family back together.”

“I can’t believe that. I know my mama, and she’s living in the past when my papa was alive.”

“I see there’s nothing I can say to change your mind. God will have to show you the truth. Nobody on this earth is perfect, and we all have to forgive each other. Why don’t you think on it while I fix us something to eat? I believe you love your mama as much as she loves you.”

All the while Travis busied himself with frying pork and potatoes, he pondered Zack’s accusation about his mother drinking. He refused to ask her about such a thing, but that wouldn’t stop him from praying about it. Sighing, he glanced out the front door for a glimpse of Zack’s head. Secrets always caused the most hurt. He should know. And getting folks to talk about what plagued them was real hard. Most folks thought their problems were no one’s business and talking about them was kin to sin.

Suddenly an idea took form. Journals for Zack and his mother. Even if they kept their troubles to themselves and God, it might help them deal with the deep hurt. He’d check at the general store. In the meantime, he’d ask Mrs. Rainer or the reverend to accompany him one day this week to call on Mrs. Kahler. Maybe he’d borrow a couple of fishing poles. He’d lean them up against the back porch just in case Zack decided to behave for three days. After all, if the Lord could resurrect in that amount of time, Zack Kahler could find a reason to go fishing.

Why couldn’t Bonnie Kahler be old and ugly with a voice like a raspy old man and a wart on the end of her nose? He chuckled. She’d not be too happy with his thoughts.

In a way, God had given him a second chance on more than shepherding a church. He’d given him a chance to live again. He wanted to believe that by helping Zack, he’d make up for the mistakes he’d made in the past. Trying to convince Felicia to leave the brothel hadn’t been wrong—it was how he’d gone about it.

*****

On Monday morning, after he and Zack went through their new morning schedule, washed clothes, and hung them on the line, Travis set Zack to work on some arithmetic that Miss Scott had recommended. Travis set out to visit Miss Rosie at Heaven’s Gate and to the general store for the journals.

At Heaven’s Gate, Jenny Andrews answered the door with her youngest daughter, Rachel, clinging to her skirts. She ushered him into the parlor where Miss Rosie sat propped on a sofa in the parlor and talking with the young women whom he recognized from his former visit. Mrs. Andrews had been playing a familiar hymn on the piano for them.

“Listening to Mrs. Andrews is better than church.” He took a seat on a chair that wasn’t made for men. “I don’t have to give a sermon.”

The women laughed, and he noted the color in Miss Rosie’s cheeks was a little pinker.

“How are all of you this fine day?” he said. “And our Miss Rosie?”

They all echoed how well they were doing, even Miss Rosie.

He turned his attention to the beaten girl. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

“No, sir. I’m healing fine. Soon I’ll be back working for Mrs. Hillman.”

“Don’t rush yourself. Looks to me like there are good folks willing to take care of you.”

“That’s what we keep telling her,” Laura, a red-haired young woman, said. “The weather is beautiful, and she can read all day long.”

“But I need to do my part,” Rosie said. “I feel guilty with all of you doing the work.”

“I do miss your cooking,” Laura said. “I think about it all the time I’m working for Mr. Hillman at the bank.”

“And now I have to make my own breakfast,” Daisy, a tall young woman, said.

Travis gazed into Rosie’s olive-skinned face and smiled. “You have wonderful friends here. Take time to heal, and I’ll stop by soon.”

As he made his way to the general store, he talked to God about Rosie. Lord, I pray whoever did this to her leaves her alone. With the loving people around her, surely she’d be safe. And then there’s Zack . . . and his mother.

*****

“What am I supposed to do with this?” Zack turned the journal over in his hands. His eyes widened. “It doesn’t have any words.”

“It’s not supposed to have any words.” Travis wanted to laugh, but Zack was serious. “It’s a journal for you to write in.”

“You want me to write a book?”

This time Travis swallowed his mirth. “Not at all. A journal is for personal thoughts. Things you want to say but don’t necessarily want other folks to read.”

Zack stared down at the book. His dark hair fell over his forehead. “Secret things?”

“Yes. Just yours. You could write down all the things you remember about your father.”

“Why?”

Lord, does this boy trust anyone? “Because things have happened in your life that are painful and hard, and the days ahead may not be easy. The treasured times you had with your father may one day be forgotten.”

“I don’t want it.” He slapped the book on the table.

“I’m not surprised, so I’ll put it in your room.”

Zack crossed his arms over his chest. “You can’t make me write a word.”

“You’re right. I can’t.” With those words, Travis wrapped his fingers around the journal, walked to Zack’s room, and laid it on his bed. With a deep breath, he made his way outside into the cool air before he said things a good preacher never said. God must have as much for him to learn as Zack.