Amazing Grace

(Note: This is not fully edited and will probably go through more changes before publication.)

Caleb hurried to the post office. He had to get in and out before his sister finished at the general store. “Any mail for the Stuarts?” He asked the post master.

The post master took a lazy look at him over the top of his eyeglasses and gave a heaving sigh as he turned around to check. “Yep. Somethin’ from Ohio and somethin’ from Montana.”

Caleb waited until the large man put the letters lazily in his hand. As he left he wondered why Anna had written someone in Montana. It was really none of his business, but he was still curious. He folded the Ohio letter and stashed it in his back pocket. It would get wrinkled, but at least Anna wouldn’t know about it.

As he waited, he tapped his toes as the time crept along. Why did women always take so long to shop? He thought about pulling the letter out and starting to read it, but he knew that as soon as he did, Anna would come out and catch him reading it.

“Sorry I took so long, Caleb,” Anna looked at her brother with chagrin as she came out of the store fifteen minutes later than she had said she would. “I got caught up talking to Wilma and Hester.”

Caleb shrugged. “‘S’okay.” He helped Anna climb up onto the wagon seat and waited for her to scoot over before he climbed up beside her. As he gathered the reins, he remembered Anna’s letter.

“Oh, there was a letter for you. It’s from Montana.”He looked at her with a question on his face as he held the letter toward her.

Anna snatched it from him with a grin. “That was fast. I just wrote them a few weeks ago.”

Anna sighed. “Sheriff Brookings didn’t hang Jed, he led Jed to Christ. Well, with help.”

Caleb couldn’t think of anything to say after that, especially when Anna started to sniffle. She wasn’t usually emotional, but she’d been through a lot in the last twenty years of her life and Jed’s death had added to it. Caleb sighed inwardly. They’d all been through a lot the last twenty years.

Especially during the war years. As the horses trotted past the church, a similar, but vastly different scene flashed into his mind.

He had led the troops to a church where they claimed the enemy had encamped. Without even scouting to see if anyone was there, the general ordered the artillery to open fire.

Caleb had never been much of a church-loving person, but he had some respect for the buildings and those who worshiped there. He clamped his mouth shut, knowing that one word of dissension from him could get him killed and then where would Da, Anna, and Jed be?

Caleb blinked rapidly as the fields came into view. He glanced over at Anna to make sure she hadn’t noticed anything. She hadn’t. She was engrossed in her letter. He sighed quietly in relief before pulling back on the reins and setting the brake as the wagon came to a halt between the house and the barn.

“I’ll get the packages,” Anna said, looking up from the letters. “You should take care of the horses and get back out to help Da.”

“That’s all right,” Caleb drawled. “I kin take it once in awhile. Just not too often, y’hear?” He wagged his finger at her and she chuckled.

As Anna cooked supper, she thought about the encouraging letter she had received from the Brookings family. On a whim, she had written to them a few months after she became a Christian. Now she was glad that she had. Harriet Brookings had decided to take it upon herself to mentor Anna in her new role as surrogate mother to the pastor’s sons. Now that she was being courted by Miles, Anna hoped to get some more advice from her.

Her smile dipped a little as she thought about her da. “God,” she prayed, “Please show Da Your love. He desperately needs you.” She cut her prayer short when she heard boots on the porch outside. Maybe Caleb would go to bed early tonight and she could reply to Harriet’s letter. Anna scurried around the kitchen, a smile lighting up her face as she finished putting supper on the table.

As soon as the evening chores were finished, Caleb rushed upstairs, lit the candle beside his bed and grabbed the letter out of his pocket. He ripped the envelope open and pulled the letter out. A sudden feeling of panic hit him all of a sudden and he closed his eyes and took a deep, steady breath.

When his lungs couldn’t hold any more air, Caleb let it out slowly. As the last of the breath escaped his lungs, Caleb opened his eyes a crack, then a crack more, until they were fully open and staring at the beautiful handwriting of Maggie McDougall.

Dear Mr. Stuart,

I appreciate your honesty. If there is one thing lacking in men these days—at least here in Wheeling—it is honesty. It seems that men will do anything to get what they want. Enough of that though. I don’t think you really want me to analyze all the men here and write it down on paper for you.

As I said in the ad, I am 30 years old so your sister and I must be about the same age. I grew up on a farm and, though I loved my husband enough to move to the city, I have always wanted to be out in the country again, especially as Rachel gets older. She is already becoming a beautiful young woman and I fear for her safety in this city.

About myself, I have thick brown hair, brown eyes, and am well tanned from my days growing up on the farm. I think I have lost some of the tan while living in the city.

I am truly sorry to hear about your brother’s death. Did you get to see him before he died? If I may, why has your sister been so different since hearing about Jed’s death?

I’m not sure what to say about myself either as I am also new to this. One thing I should tell you is that I am replying to two letters I have received so far and will be asking both of you tough questions to try to figure out which situation and man God wants me to marry.

I do understand. I also want to get married, but don’t. I honestly don’t know if I could ever love another man the way I loved Duncan and that seems unfair to the man I might marry in the future.

I know you aren’t a Christian (yet) but I would like to say that God already knows what is in your past and He still wants you to be His child. I challenge you to read the Bible, especially Genesis, John, and Acts. Those books tell about faithful men of God who screwed up and God still forgave them. They also are good books for learning more about what Christianity is all about. What kinds of things are you having a hard time dealing with?

I placed the ad because both Rachel and I had the idea the same day and we both felt like God was telling me to do it. I have also had an almost impossible time finding steady work. I can find an odd job here and there, but unless I become a lady of the street, I can’t find anything permanent. As you have probably figured out, my daughter’s name is Rachel and she absolutely loves the idea of getting a new father.

I have been widowed for two years. Duncan was at his job doing construction on a house and fell from the roof, breaking his back. He died a few days later. It is hard to talk about, but I need to talk about it, so I don’t mind answering.

How are things on the farm? What is your sister like? Is she married? When you aren’t working on the farm, what do you like to do? Do you take Sundays off? If so, what do you do? I wish I didn’t have to ask this, but I do. Do you drink alcoholic beverages? Why did you reply to my ad?

Sincerely,

Maggie McDougall

As he read the last word, he let the letter fall to the floor. She’d actually written him back and she’d him written a long letter. And she was a lady in distress! Not that it really mattered, but ever since his mother had read those fairy tales out loud at bedtime, he had dreamed of being a prince in shining armor. Or was it a knight in shining armor? He shrugged. Either way, if he somehow managed to win this woman’s heart, he might just be able to be that...person in shining armor after all. Only without the armor. And without being a prince or a knight.

He blew out the candle, picked up the letter, put it on his desk and got ready for bed. He lay in bed, staring into the darkness for over an hour according to the grandfather clock downstairs. When the clock chimed ten, Caleb shook his head and hissed to himself, “You are as daft as a schoolboy with his first crush. This is ridiculous! Get over it already!” With that, he rolled over, covered his head with his pillow and went to sleep.

Anna was at church again and Caleb sat at the desk in the parlor muttering to himself about something. Iain scowled. Why didn’t his kids just get themselves married? Then he could find peace and quiet without hiding out in the barn. And he could do whatever he wanted without the judgmental looks from Anna and Caleb.

Iain clomped to the barn, refusing to look around as he passed the spot where Jed had beaten him up. He rubbed his side absentmindedly as he walked into the barn. Just before a rain, his ribs would ache where they’d been broken nine years earlier. Iain scowled and darted a glance around the barn as if to make sure no one was hiding inside the dark building.

Once he was assured no one was watching, he strode to his hiding place in the far stall. In the stall, he scooted along the wall and back behind the haystack. He sat down heavily on the floor and reached his hand toward the hidden compartment he had built into the barn floor...how many years ago? Twenty? Twenty-one? He shook his head. “Not today, Iain! Don’t think on that today!”

He pulled the bottle out of the compartment and uncorked it. “Just a few gulps o’ th’ good stuff,” he told himself as he tipped the bottle back. “Just enough to take the edge off this pain inside, but not enough to get Anna and Caleb suspicious.”

The fiery liquid slid down his throat and into his belly, warming and numbing every inch of his body, including his brain. He rested his head against the barn wall, bent one leg and rested the other leg on his knee. The jug sat clutched in his hands.

As his body grew more and more numb, his mind became more active. Although this wasn’t usually the case, it did happen occasionally. His mind went back to the time when he had first started to make his own moonshine.

He’d known if he spent money on liquor Aishlinn would notice and he couldn’t have that happen because he couldn’t have her know he was drinking again after he’d promised not to. So he built a still and made and drank his own brew. It wasn’t too bad, actually. He could even get it pretty good more often than naught.

His stomach clenched and the jug dropped to the barn floor as his thoughts wandered back a little further.

Aishlinn had just miscarried a second time in as many years since Anna’s birth.

“If she gets pregnant again,” the doctor said to him, “your wife might not survive. Don’t have any more children. She won’t survive the birthing for sure and maybe not even the pregnancy.”

Iain had been in shock and couldn’t say a word. In the present, a rogue tear worked its way down his wrinkled cheek. He’d turned to drink for his solace as often as he dared. Except for that one time when he’d turned to his wife. What had that God of Aishlinn’s been thinking to let her get pregnant? Why couldn’t...

Iain clenched his jaw and punched the stall wall, scraping his knuckles and causing Storm to shuffle and whinny in the stall next to him.

He looked up. The sun had stopped streaming through the barn door when Iain looked up from the floor. Anna would be getting back soon. That daft girl had started going to church again and didn’t care that he’d forbidden her from going there over ten years before. Iain grunted in disgust. Maybe she’d find some young man there to get hitched to soon.

Iain groaned as he pulled himself up. As he steadied himself against the stall, Storm nuzzled his arm looking for a sugar cube or carrot stick. “Nothin’ today, Storm lad. Nothin’ today.”

He walked into the sun and blinked his eyes. He saw Anna walking up the road and hurried to the house. He ignored the stare his son gave him and went straight to his room. He would avoid Anna until it was time to eat.