“Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.”
Carsten had read that verse from Proverbs two days earlier, and it still ran through his mind over and over again. He knew what it meant, of course. That was easy. But actually putting it into practice? Not easy at all. While he walked to town, he thought about how he could logically apply the verse to his situation. He could trust that God would prove his innocence, but how? Carsten didn’t know if he could do that without doing something to help God along. Didn’t God need humans to help Him sometimes?
Carsten sighed. Being a Christian was harder than he thought it would be. Worth it, of course, but hard.
He reached town and put on a more neutral face. One that said he didn’t care what people said about him. Even though he did. It bothered him when they ignored him or acted as if he didn’t know they were talking about him. He went straight to the print shop. When he had made his order, they had told him to come in two weeks later. It hadn’t quite been two weeks, but he decided to check anyway.
Carsten took a deep breath as he opened the print shop door. No one was out front. He went to the counter and looked around. No one. He was about to leave when he heard voices.
“It won’t work. I’ve tried everything.”
“Are you sure?”
“Positive. I tried different papers, different inks. Everything I can think of. Well, short of taking the whole thing apart.”
There was a bang and a curse word from Mr. Graves. “We can’t run this store on hand-printed items! What could have happened? It worked fine last night, before we left.”
“I know.”
Carsten chewed his lip and stepped around the counter and into the back room. “Excuse me.”
Mr. Graves turned, a fake smile on his face. “Carsten. I have your print…”
“Thanks, but I actually came to the back room to see if I can help. I heard you talking about the press not working.” Carsten quirked a sheepish smile. “I’ve gotten good at figuring out machinery and fixing problems. One of the perks of not being able to afford paying for help from someone else. I won’t do anything unless I think it will actually help.”
Relief flooded Mr. Graves’s face. “That would be much appreciated. Thank you.”
“But he’s a thief!” Carey Eldridge exclaimed. “Are you sure you want him here?”
“He was a thief and is currently accused,” Mr. Graves said. “A man is innocent until proven guilty. So far, I haven’t heard of anything that proves for sure he is guilty. And if he can help, it will be worth anything he may or may not steal out of here.”
“I assure you,” Carsten said, “I won’t steal anything. All I want to do is help.” He approached the press and looked it over. It was a fairly simple design. Levers for adjusting the paper thickness, plates for pressing ink into the paper, and ink for pressing onto plates.
Wait. Ink.
He looked closer at the ink. Red ink caked in the spot where the paper should have fed through. It was well hidden and in a place no ink should be. No wonder they had missed it.
“Do you have any rags and water? I also need all the paper out of the press.”
“I’ll be right back.” Mr. Graves left the room.
“You better be careful,” Carey hissed. “I’m watching every move you make. I won’t let Mr. Graves get stolen from.”
“I’m not here to steal anything. I’m here to fix your press so you can have some work to do. And pick up the print I ordered.”
“Did you steal anything when you ordered your print? That’s the day you stole from the General Store, isn’t it?”
Carsten sighed. “I didn’t steal from the General Store.”
“Everyone says you did.”
“I know. But I didn’t.” He desperately wanted to ask why Carey didn’t help out his mother more. Even as Carsten thought it, he knew it would get him angrier, and he didn’t want to make Carey more of an enemy.
Mr. Graves came back before Carey could say anything else.
“Thank you,” Carsten said. He took the rag and bucket of water and cleaned the ink off the press. It took some hard scrubbing, but it finally came off. He stood and stretched. “Try it now.”
Carey and Mr. Graves did their magic getting paper and ink set up and ran a sample through the machine.
Mr. Graves approached Carsten with an outstretched arm and a huge grin on his face. “Thank you. What can I do to repay you? You have saved me at least a day’s worth of work. First, you are getting your print for free. No need to pay me. No negotiations there. Other than that, how much should I pay you?”
Carsten’s breath caught. Maybe this was the answer to his prayer. “Actually, I have something else in mind.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you happen to need another employee? Someone who can work flexible hours and will be more available in the winter than the other months?”
Mr. Graves raised his eyebrows and nodded. “I could do that. You need a little extra income?”
“Yes, sir.”
“What would you think of doing deliveries? Some of my customers live farther away and don’t get into town often. I could offer to deliver their products to them so they don’t have to come all this way.”
“What?” Carey protested. “What if he’s found guilty?”
Mr. Graves put a hand on Carey’s shoulder. “Then he’s out of a job anyway. I’m willing to take a chance on him after his help here.”
Hope sprang up. Could it be that Carsten had finally found a shop owner who believed in him? “Thank you for the chance, Mr. Graves. When should I start? And how much are you thinking of paying?”
Mr. Graves led him out to the front of the store. “Does two dollars per delivery sound fair? I have at least one print that needs delivered this week, if you can come in sometime.”
“Sure. How big is it? I don’t have a wagon. Just a horse.”
“That should be fine. If we need something bigger, I can always rent a wagon from the livery for that day. I don’t know how busy you are with your farm, but perhaps you could stop in once a week to see if we need you.”
“Until the alfalfa needs harvesting, I would be able to have at least a couple afternoons free each week.”
“Great! I’ll get your print so you can take it home with you.”
“Thank you.”
Mr. Graves disappeared into the back for a minute but returned shortly with a small print. “What do you think?”
Carsten looked at it. There were two different fonts for the verse, one fancier and one plain. It was beautiful. “Ma will love this.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you later this week.”
“Yes, sir.”
As Carsten left, he saw Carey standing in the back doorway, glaring at him. Why was he so against Carsten’s having this job? On the surface, it would appear the fellow wanted to save his boss from a criminal, but it seemed like more than that.
Carsten shook his head. What Carey thought of him didn’t really matter. Mr. Graves was the owner and could run his shop however he saw fit.
A familiar scent reached Carsten’s nose. It was the telltale smell of lavender and orange blossoms from Luella’s perfume. He looked around and tried to find her. She wasn’t anywhere in sight, though. Maybe she had ducked into a store. With a sigh, he moved on. It would have been nice to show her the print since she had helped him so much with it, but he didn’t have time or energy to try to find her.
On his way home, he stopped by Amos’s house.
“Carsten! How’s it goin’?”
“Not too bad. I got a job in town.”
Amos blinked. “What?”
Carsten smirked. “I need something so we don’t go into debt next year. It’s only a day or two a week. But it means I might be busier and not able to investigate as much.”
“Ah. And you want me to tell Kit and Edmund you won’t be around as much.”
“If you can.”
“Sure. I wanted to see them today anyway. See how branding is going for them.”
“Thanks. Give them my best!”
“I will.”