10

“Quite some doin’s last night, huh? Not surprised ya came for some ice,” said the ice-house owner as he chiseled a small hunk.

If Old Man Crump had heard about Griffin’s brawl last night, the entire town must know.

The toothless neighbor handed Jed a chunk, then pulled on his suspenders. “Hope you haven’t gotten yourself into a fix you can’t get out of.”

“What do you mean?”

“You know what I’m talking about, Jed. You don’t seem the fatherly type. And here you are bringing in three kids you know little about. If they weren’t a problem, I suspect someone from New York woulda taken ’em in.”

Jed wrapped the ice in a cloth he’d brought from home. “Thank you for this.”

“Ice house comes in handy, Jed. You use it anytime.”

Thomas stood outside by the front door in his night clothes. His shoulders relaxed when he saw Jed, and he ran forward to greet him. “You didn’t tell me you were going somewhere.”

“It’s Sunday. Thought I’d let you sleep until I got back. We were up half the night. Aren’t you tired?”

Thomas nodded, weariness in the dark circles around his eyes.

Griffin was seated in a chair with the side of his head on the kitchen table.

Jed dropped the hunk of ice on the table. “Put this on your face.”

Griffin’s cheek had swollen considerably since last night. He opened the cloth. “Where’d you get that?”

Jed lit the fire and placed leftover corn cakes on the table. “Icehouse.”

Thomas poured water from a pitcher into four tin cups and placed the plates on the table.

Griffin pushed the cloth away. “I don’t need no ice.”

Jed shut a cabinet door harder than necessary. “Well, you won’t be able to see come Monday morning because your eyes will be swollen shut if you don’t.”

“So?”

“So?” Jed’s voice rose. “I need you in the shop.”

Griffin scoffed. “You gonna let me hammer?”

“Nope. Not now. Monday’s wash day. Instead of trading out laundry you can do it.”

“That’s woman’s work. And clothes don’t have to be clean to wear ’em.” Griffin grimaced as he pressed the ice to his temple.

“We’re leaving for church after breakfast.” Jed added a few more logs to the leftover coals.

Griffin groaned and pulled his hand away from his face.

“Keep that ice on your cheek, and stop being difficult all the time.” Jed’s voice raised.

Thomas stiffened. The lad picked up the large water bucket and exited the house.

Jed glared at Griffin and jabbed a finger toward the front door. “That’s your job. Why’s he the one hauling water?” He stacked the logs neatly in the wood box. “And without being asked?”

Silence reigned.

Jed released his jaw. He rarely got angry. His heart pulsed and, when it finally slowed, he turned back around.

Griffin’s gaze had been on Jed, half covered by the cloth with the ice still pressed to the side of his head. “There’s a difference between me and them.”

Thomas’s footsteps sounded outside.

“Who?”

Griffin inclined his head toward Thomas but didn’t take his eyes off Jed. “They was chosen. I’m the hired hand.”

A fist knotted in Jed’s gut. Griffin knew the reality of why each of them was there.

“Maybe I’ll just run away again,” Griffin mumbled under his breath.

“No!” Josiah stood in the entrance to the bedroom, his eyes barely open and his hair disheveled. He picked up the ice block and held it to Griffin’s cheek.

Griffin looked at Josiah. “What’re you planning to do, little man? Stand there all day and hold that on me?”

Josiah took the cube from Griffin’s face, opened the cloth, licked it and then put it back on Griffin’s cheek.

“That boy had it coming to him.” Griffin pushed Josiah’s long bangs off to the side. “Bruises make a man look tough.”

Well, you’re not a man.

Josiah titled his head to the side. “I think it makes you look silly.”

“Well, just remember how I got this in the first place.”

Josiah’s face lost color. His arms fell, and his eyes filled with water. He tossed the ice on the table and started toward the bedroom, but Griffin caught him around the waist and pulled him back.

“Hey, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to say that.”

Josiah wiggled to get out of Griffin’s grasp, but he couldn’t fight the older boy’s strength.

“I’m sorry, all right?” Griffin held him tight. “I’m sorry. That was mean, and I’m just grumpy.”

Josiah sniffled. Finally, he rested one side of his head on Griffin’s shoulder.

“Didn’t mean what I said, Little Squirt. Just came out wrong.”

Josiah’s lips quivered as he tried hard to hold back tears.

“Nobody, and I mean nobody. Needs to be messin’ with you or your brother. All right? People who make fun of you are just mean. We don’t need them anyway.”

“But you got hurt.” Josiah spoke without lifting his head.

“Hurt?” Griffin pulled Josiah off his shoulder and looked him in the face. “This is just a little swelling. It’ll be gone in a few days.”

“It looks like it hurts. You look ugly.”

Griffin made a face that made Josiah giggle.

Josiah touched his cheek and Griffin flinched more than necessary. “Ouch!”

Josiah giggled

“How about you put that ice back on my cheek?”

Josiah lifted the ice, sucked the water that dripped from it, and placed it on Griffin’s cheek.

Griffin‘s gaze shot toward Jed and Thomas standing near the hearth. “See, it’s already feeling better. Now, if we could just get some breakfast around here.” Griffin gritted his teeth. “But it’ll probably take a while since Mr. Green is still a single man.”

Get used to it. That wouldn’t be changing anytime soon.

~*~

The last notes of the hymn echoed. Reverend Parks directed the congregation to be seated. Grace closed her hymnal and sat down. She’d hoped to see one or both of her sisters in church, but there’d been no sign of them yet.

The church doors opened and footsteps sounded down the aisle.

Grace turned. Perhaps Mercy or Joy had been able to come to town after all.

The blacksmith’s clan settled in their seats. Jedidiah Green looked straight ahead, his expression stoic but as handsome as ever. Thomas and Josiah sat to his right, and Griffin on the far end. The side of Griffin’s face was swollen with reddish-purple marks that would surely be black in a day or two. The disgruntled boy stared at the back of the pew in front of him.

Jed’s gaze turned to her.

Grace smiled and then focused forward, fumbling to find the scripture the congregation was already reading aloud.

“Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to help in time of need.”

How many times Grace had heard that scripture. Today it brought such meaning. She needed God’s grace. And the Word said to meet Him boldly. With fervor. With confidence.

Grace tried to block the swelling of tears. One escaped her right eye, and she brushed it away. She prayed for the boldness that would reveal God’s presence and that grace would carry her through this path.

The service ended, and Grace shook many hands. Her gaze flickered to Jed…the blacksmith’s family. Thomas had fallen asleep on Jed’s shoulder, and Josiah’s head rested in Griffin’s lap. The picture they presented was precious. They were becoming a family.

Reverend’s sermon sparked a family memory of her own. Pa said it was her mother’s idea to name her sisters and herself. Mercy, Joy, and Grace. Being only two when cholera took her mother, Grace had no memory of her mother. Mercy said she was beautiful, with golden brown hair just like a Kansas wheat field. Mercy looked like their father. By the pictures, Joy had her mother’s eyes. And Grace and her mother shared the same nose and smile. Sometimes the craving to know her mother, to be a part of a family again, intensified so desperately she could almost feel the maternal caress of her mother’s hand. She had grown accustomed to depending on her sisters for earthly love. Now, even they were gone. And with these memories, the walk home felt harder and longer than usual.

The front door had been propped open with a butter churn. Edith came into the doorway as Grace walked up the steps.

“Have a seat.” Edith pointed with her cane and smiled at Grace.

Grace untied her bonnet and draped it over the railing. She noticed how the color had faded and picked it up to examine it. “Do you happen to have a pattern for a bonnet?”

“No, gave them a way a long time ago. Don’t see well enough to thread a needle anymore.”

“I love this print, but I may have to cut this up and use it as a pattern.”

“Maybe Mr. Talbert got you a bonnet. You should open the package to find out.”

Grace laid the bonnet down. “By its size, I assume the box holds something bigger than that.”

“Well, maybe it’s a dozen bonnets.”

Grace laughed and sat down. “Maybe.” A morning dove cooed in a nearby tree. Her empty stomach growled, but she ignored the rumblings, too deep in thought to get up.

“All right, that does it.” Edith picked up the box with trembling fingers. “I’m gonna open it. And if I like it, I’m keeping it. Maybe he will marry me.”

“Were you always this way?”

“What way?”

“Ornery.” Grace could fall asleep if she wasn’t careful. “And feisty.”

“No. That’s something that comes with age. Needs to be brewed and fermented over the years. Like wine.”

Grace cared little about the package. She didn’t want or need a man, and even if she did it wouldn’t be Hail Talbert. She was too exhausted to worry about anything besides school and tending to Edith. A soft breeze swept the loose hairs around her face. She might drift off, and the day would slip away without chores being done.

“Hmm,” said Edith.

Grace would not be distracted.

“What a pretty dress.”

Dress? Grace opened her eyes.

Pale yellow fabric with tiny ivory flowers draped from Edith’s fingertips.

“Well, I’d keep it, but I’m sure it’s too small for me.” Edith lifted the dress from the box. “Looks too big for you.”

Grace lifted the gift from Edith’s hands. The dress she’d admired lay in her fingertips.

~*~

The children twitched and squirmed more than normal as they waited to give their speeches.

Only a handful of parents lined the back of the room. The parents who couldn’t attend had sent polite notes saying they had chores or other pressing matters.

Mrs. Beauregard entered the schoolhouse, her eyes peering like a hawk.

“Thank you for coming,” Grace said to the parents.

Jedidiah Green walked into the schoolhouse, removing his hat.

Grace’s heart skipped a beat, and she glanced at Thomas and Josiah. The younger boy’s grin was delightful to see.

The youngest children took their turn first, each stated the title of their poem or book, the author’s name, and how that piece of literature became important to them.

Wyatt began with the Lord’s Prayer. He fidgeted with his suspenders and spoke quickly, stumbling over a few words. Josiah looked down at the ground and whispered so softly no one could hear.

“Speak up, Josiah,” Grace said.

He started again, and when his gaze went to Jed, he smiled so big his cheeks turned pink. Josiah stepped back prematurely.

“Why’d you choose that poem, Josiah?” Grace asked.

“Because it had a picture of a boy and a dog, and I always wanted to have me a puppy.”

Minnie recited a poem about the sea and shared how she hoped to visit there someday. Leisel flawlessly recited the Preamble and mentioned its importance to the Constitution.

“Do you plan to run for office one day, Leisel?” Grace asked, prompting him.

“That may indeed be an option for me.” Leisel raised his chin, bowed, and took one large step back in line.

Thomas stepped forward and looked straight ahead, his gaze clouded.

“Thomas,” Grace spoke softly.

He stared at her, and then around the room.

An awkward silence grew.

Jed sat up a bit taller.

Cora, who stood in line next to Thomas, nudged him with her elbow.

“Are you ready?” Grace asked.

He nodded.

“Go ahead.”

“My Loving Thomas.” He exhaled. “A letter from my mother. It’s important to me because…it’s important because it’s from her to me.”

Grace’s throat tightened as the wind sucked out of her lungs. She reminded herself to breathe.

“My Loving Thomas by Mary Judith Steward,” Thomas began again. “Each day my body grows weaker, but I cling to each breath so that I may see your face for a moment longer. My love for you is boundless, and I am forever grateful to have you for my son. My life has little of which to be proud, but you are evidence of God’s undeserving grace. I am too feeble to desire anything for myself beyond rest and a life without pain. My regret is that you may never fathom to know how I long to see you grow into a man. I pray whoever replaces me will come to love you. And if only a fraction of what I do, then my prayers will be answered. Thoughts of you will linger until I am no more. Forgive me, Mother.”

Silence stretched. The words soaked in like a hard, spring rain.

Grace’s eyes became warm and misty, and she fought the urge to wrap her arms around the boy. She blinked and a single tear escaped. “Thank you, Thomas.”

Thank you very much, Thomas.