| |
Saturday night arrived all too quickly for me. I had to make up my mind and make it up fast. Was I going to defy my father and go to church or not? As I heated the water for our weekly baths, I debated back and forth with myself.
“Da would be livid if you went,” one side said.
“But, it might help you get some answers to the questions you’ve had all week,” the other side countered.
“Possibly. Only possibly. You might end up with more questions than answers.”
“Not if God truly wants me to get answers.”
“How do you know God isn’t a fairy tale?”
I sighed at my inner antagonist. “I know Jed. He never lied to me. He might’ve lied to others, but not to me. Jed said God is real and I believe him.”
“Jed turned bad after he left you. You have no idea if he might lie to you now. He probably ended up as a skillful cheat and liar.”
My good side desperately wanted to reach out and shake my other side. “Jed would never lie to me. He would also want me to do what was right, no matter the cost.” My antagonist tried to rear up and speak again, but my other side hushed it. “No, I have made up my mind. I am going to church.”
I bobbed my head down and then back up with deliberation. My decision was made. While I waited for Caleb to finish bathing, I ironed my best dress for the morning.
“Anna, I am finished,” Caleb said as he walked into the room.
“Thank you Caleb,” I said. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “And so you know, I am going to church in the morning. I will do my best to be home for lunch, but don’t expect to be. I have fried chicken and vegetables in the icebox. All you need to do is get them out and put plates and forks on the table. Is that all right with you?”
Caleb leaned against the door frame, his arms crossing over his wide chest. “You’re sure you want to do this?”
I put the iron down on the stove, “Caleb, I need answers. The only way to get those answers is to go to church.”
“What about that new friend of yours? That neighbor lady?”
“Wilma?” I shook my head. “No, I don’t think she could answer some of the questions I’ve got. I need to hear from the pastor and get them from him.”
Caleb nodded. “Yes, I suppose so. I’ll do my best to keep Da calm. He won’t like it. But I’m sure you already know that.” Caleb straightened. “I’d best get some sleep.”
“Goodnight, Caleb.”
“‘Night, Anna.”
***
I sneaked out of the house soon after breakfast and walked to the church. The church was situated on the edge of town closest to us so it didn’t take very long to walk there. When I arrived, I walked into the churchyard and stopped on the edge. I watched as smaller children played, doing their best not to get their Sunday clothes dirty. There were pockets of adults talking. I suddenly felt out of place, but then, what else could I expect? I was out of place. I hadn’t talked with people in town or been to church for almost fifteen years.
I took a deep breath and walked further into the yard. Looking around, I didn’t see anybody I really knew. Wilma was surrounded by the young wives and mothers and I could tell she loved every minute of it. I looked for someone else who was alone, but saw no one. Seconds after deciding there was no one to talk to, I saw a young lad sitting on a stump all by himself. I crossed the yard to join him.
“May I join you?” I asked.
The boy looked up at me, unshed tears glistening in his dark blue eyes. He nodded and made a little room on the stump. I lowered myself down with care. “I’m Anna Stuart,” I said, holding out my hand. “Who are you?”
The boy looked at my hand for a second before cautiously putting his hand in mine and giving it a half-hearted shake. He shook his head.
I cocked my head, my eyes narrowing in curiosity. Was the boy mute or shy? “Well, I can’t keep calling you ‘boy’. Surely you have a name.”
A reluctant smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he nodded his assent.
“Good! Now that we have that settled, I have a question for you: Can you speak?”
His hands moved in a series of quick signs I was unable to understand.
“You are mute?” I guessed. His head bobbed up and down and the shy half-smile came back.
“Well, guessing your name will be all the more challenging now.” I put a forefinger on my chin in exaggerated concentration. “Does your name start with a letter between A and M?”
I could almost hear his brain working as he tried to figure out the answer to my question. After less than a minute, he nodded.
“A through F?”
A shake of his head.
My mouth quirked in concentration. “G through J?” I asked.
His eyes lit up and his head nodded with vigor.
I smiled. “Does it start with a G?”
He shook his head.
“H?”
Another shake.
“I? No? Then it must start with a J.”
I began to fear the boy’s head was going to be shaken off. “Is it a Bible name?” I asked. He nodded his head. “Hm. Jeremiah?”
One strike. “John?” Two strikes. I couldn’t remember of another “J” name from the Bible, besides Jed’s and I certainly hoped it wasn’t that name. I sifted through my limited knowledge of the Bible and finally remembered another one. “James?”
The boy’s shy smile grew into a full-fledged grin.
“How old are you, James?”
James held up seven fingers.
“Seven? My, my. You are almost grown up.” I was quiet for a minute while I tried to think of a question James could answer.
“Earlier you did something with your hands. Do you speak with your hands?”
James nodded his head.
“He uses sign language,” a young voice near me said. I looked up and saw an older version of James standing next to the stump. The older boy gave me his hand. “I’m John. I’m James’ brother.”
“Anna Stuart,” I replied, shaking the offered hand. “Where did you learn sign language?” My eyes flickered between the two boys, taking in their very similar looks. If John hadn’t been taller and have an older look about him, I would wonder if the two boys were twins.
John’s eyes were the most expressive of the two boys. The pain written in them was heart wrenching.
“Mama taught us afore she died,” he said in a quiet voice. “She’d learnt it from a deaf boy when she was growin’ up. When we figgered out James couldn’t talk, she taught Pa and me sign language at the same time she taught James. Whatever we don’t know, we make up.”
I looked around the churchyard. Where was the boys’ pa? “How hard is it to learn sign language?” I asked.
“Not hard, just time consumin’,” John replied.
I tried hard not to wince at the horrible grammar John was using. “Do you go to school, James?”
James nodded, moving his fisted hand up and down with his head. He signed something to me. I cocked an eyebrow at John who interpreted for me with an amused smile.
“He said, ‘I can hear, so I can learn everything. The teacher knows not to call on me to answer a question out loud.’”
The church bell rang just then and James jumped off the stump, stood in front of me, and offered me his hand. I gladly accepted it and the three of us walked into church together. Once inside, the two boys walked up to the front row, so I lagged behind and took a seat in the back.
***
I struggled through the entire service. The hymns were as I remembered them: deep and thought-provoking. The sermon wasn’t as I had remembered the sermons to be. Maybe it was because Pastor Jenkins didn’t have the same style as Pastor Carlton had when I was attending all those years earlier. Or perhaps it was because I was now grown up and understood it more.
It was hard to sit through the sermon. Pastor Jenkins preached about death. Worse, he preached about the death of a loved one. The passage was from the book of John and was about a man who died, leaving behind his two sisters. Lazarus was one of Jesus’ beloved friends. He died and Jesus did nothing to stop his death. Lazarus’ sisters begged Jesus to heal him, but Jesus lingered in the city He was in. Four days after Lazarus’ death, Jesus arrived and, after some time weeping and grieving with the family and friends, He went out to see the tomb. He ordered for the stone to be rolled away and asked Lazarus to come out.
The main point of the sermon centered on John 11:35, “Jesus wept.” The point was that Jesus can commiserate with our pain when we lose a loved one. He then talked about how Jesus and the Holy Spirit can comfort us in our grief.
After the service, I was quite skeptical of the supposed comfort Pastor Jenkins had talked about, but I kept my thoughts to myself. As I had expected, Wilma accosted me nearly as soon as the service was over and introduced me to Darius.
Pastor Jenkins also made sure he welcomed me to the church. He seemed a bit preoccupied and did not talk to me long. I was grateful for that and made a quick escape.
I strode home as quickly as I could without being too unladylike. When I arrived, I sneaked a peek into the window. No one was around. I sighed in relief and let myself into the house. I crept up to my room and collapsed backwards onto my bed, lying there for a few minutes staring at the ceiling. As I lay there, I tried to think of nothing. When I finally allowed my thoughts to return, they went back to...Mama? What was she doing? I held my breath as I allowed myself to be transported to that memory.
* * *
Mama was in the kitchen, sweeping the floor and humming a song. While she hummed, the words ran through my head.
“Be Thou my vision, oh Lord of my heart,
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art—
Thou my best thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.”
* * *
Tears came to my eyes, it had been a long time since I had thought about Mama singing that song. Mama had sung it so often that I knew all the words by heart. Even now, I could still sing it in either Irish Gaelic or English. Tears threatened to spill over my eyelids.
Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I leaped off my bed and hurried into the kitchen. I put together a quick lunch and ate it.
Caleb came in a half hour later. He found me sitting in the living room staring out the window. If he had asked me what was outside the window, I would not have been able to tell him.
“Welcome home, Anna,” Caleb said. “How was church?”
I shrugged. I had no idea what to say. Was it good or wasn’t it?
Caleb crossed his arms and looked down at me with an arched eyebrow. “What about the sermon?”
“It was...interesting,” I said. I knew I was being vague, but I really did not want to talk about it. “If you wanted to know more, you should have come with me.” I moved to walk past him, but he caught my arm.
“What’s wrong, Anna?”
I glared up into his face. “Nothing. Now let me go!”
He let go of my arm and I left, but not before seeing concern creep into his eyes. What was he concerned about? Me? He didn’t have to worry there. I wasn’t about to change simply because a sermon hit me in the wrong place or because Jed had died. I stopped in my tracks. The sermon hit me in the wrong place? Was that why I was so out of sorts? I shook my head, trying to get the wayward thoughts out.
The rest of the day I felt like I was hardly able to do anything right and I definitely couldn’t do anything fast. Da didn’t notice, but Caleb kept a close eye on me all day.
That night, I actually slept well and woke up feeling refreshed and unaffected by my weird sensations from the day before. I breathed a sigh of relief.
The day went well until a knock came at the door. I stared at it for a minute. Another visitor? Wasn’t one unexpected visitor a week enough? Then I remembered Wilma had said she would be coming over again. I assumed the visitor must be her and pasted on my best smile as I opened the door. The smile faded when I saw it wasn’t Wilma; it was Pastor Jenkins.
