Moriah worked on the stone wall all day with Ben’s encouragement and supervision. If it began to veer a bit to one side or another, he always found just the right rock to make up the difference.
“You're doing great,” Ben said. “This isn’t easy to learn. Most people give up, but you’re doing it. I’m proud of you.”
She was discovering that her back had muscles she’d never known existed, and all of them ached, but Ben was so pleased with the job she was doing, she was determined to keep going.
Instead of working on the tower, he left Jack in charge and spent the day gathering stones from all around the peninsula. She was amazed to find there were so many different colors, shapes, and sizes. She had never really noticed the variety before.
Occasionally, he had to place a large one, a rock bigger than she could lift, in the wall to work the smaller ones around. It gave the wall strength and character, he said, and then he pointed out that it was like when God made people with greater gifts to help hold the church together.
Moriah had never given any thought to her place in her church—her part in holding up the “wall.” As she fitted the rocks together, she realized that, in her obsession to make and save enough money to purchase the lighthouse, she had allowed herself to become a rather small pebble at her church.
Ben was right. Building a stone wall gave a person plenty of time to think. Maybe too much.
Petras was carrying rocks from the river near their village, preparing to build a room onto the clinic. She was not allowed to go to the river, but he was a grownup man, so he could go wherever he wanted. Seeing him go back and forth from the river to the clinic, carrying dripping rocks, was fascinating. She crept closer and closer. Before long, she had followed Petras almost the whole way.
“You are a curious little lass, aren’t you,” he said. “I’d better get you back to your mother.” He dropped the rock he had pulled from the river onto the path and picked her up. He placed her on his shoulders and walked back toward the village.
She had never ridden on Petras’ shoulders before. He was bigger than Daddy, and she liked being up so high. She did not like it when he stopped in the middle of the path and stood completely still.
“Go!” she urged.
Petras told her to shush and pointed up the path several yards.
At first, she didn’t see it, and then she did. A giant snake was slithering across the path. It was very big, and it took a long time for it to cross. Petras waited and waited, standing very still, even long after it had disappeared.
“What was that?” she asked.
“It was an Anaconda,” Petras said.
“What’s an Anaconda?”
“A very large snake.” He started walking again.
“Does it bite?”
“No,” he said. “It swallows things whole.”
“Does it eat little girls?”
“Sometimes,” he said, “especially little girls who disobey their mother and go to the river when they have been told not to.”
He gave her back to her mother with a warning about the big snake. Her mother did not have to chastise her. Moriah was too frightened ever to go to the river again. She didn’t want to get swallowed by a big snake.
At the end of the day, with Ben’s occasional help, she had completed a course of stone wall ten feet long and three feet high. In spite of having worn work gloves, her fingers were bruised and scraped in several places. She stood back and admired her work with as much pride as she had taken in the first cabin she had ever built.
“It usually takes a lot longer than this to teach someone how to lay stone,” Ben said. “You're quick.”
“It doesn’t seem like I got all that far.”
“It's not how far you get in one day; it's how well you build, how strong. A wall like that will stand a hundred years and beyond with only minor repairs from time to time. You did well.”
“Thanks.” She drew off her gloves and stuffed them into her back pocket. “Let's go see how much the guys have gotten done inside the cottage today. Are we on track for the light tower?”
“Two more weeks and I should be able to start rebuilding your precious light tower.” Ben tugged her braid. “You are as bad as a kid at Christmas.”