Chapter Eleven

“I’m worried, June,” Sam said as she and June prepared food in the orphanage’s kitchen. “I feel like we’re running out of space here. You know the wee tykes need not only space but clothes, toys, shoes, books, food. Come winter, they’ll need warm coats and mufflers. Where’s it all to come from?”

June sighed. “I know. I’m worried too. The extra clothing I collected helped some, but it’s not enough. People don’t seem to have much left over to give.”

“You two worry too much.”

Sam and June jumped in surprise. They hadn’t heard Simon approach.

“Just feeling a bit sorry for meself, love.” Sam stood on tiptoe to accept his kiss. “What brings you out this way today?”

“You.” Simon smoothed her creased brow with his forefinger. “I thought we might eat our dinner together.”

She grinned, stealing another quick kiss. “Can’t think of anything I’d like better.”

Simon unknotted the corners of a cloth bag and took out two thick ham sandwiches and laid them on the table. June busied herself making a pot of fresh coffee.

“How’re things going?” Simon asked.

“Not so good. The wee ones need so much. The camp offering Parker allows June to take helps, but it’s not nearly enough. The roof needs fixing, the baby needs special medicine. . . . The list is endless.”

“If Isaac would share a few of his offerings, it would make things easier,” Simon grumbled.

June looked at him. So Parker wasn’t the only one who felt this way. She herself had begun to feel confused. Hadn’t God sent her to Eli, and then to carry on his work? Yet as she saw the needs of the orphans, she felt more and more pulled toward helping them. What was her call? She’d thought she knew, but when Reverend Inman asked her to choose, she began to question everything.

“June’s done her best to talk to ’im; Parker’s done his best to talk to ’im. But Reverend Inman can’t see his responsibility ’ere.”

“Then he’s blind.”

Sam shrugged. “’e is, in some ways. Can’t see beyond ’is wife’s dream.”

Simon turned to June. “What do you think?”

“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “Perhaps the tabernacle Katherine envisioned has become his obsession.”

“It’s not right. . . . Don’t know what the orphans will do when you’re forced to shut this place down.”

Shut down? Would it come to that? Much as June hated to face it, that did seem the likely scenario—if something more couldn’t be done. “There should be a way to support both the orphanage and the tabernacle,” she said. “Why does everyone think that’s so impossible?”

“Well, it seems like it should be possible, but those kids still need a decent roof over their heads and a stove to warm the upstairs. I know you’ve been working real hard, Miss June, but still the needs are too great.”

Sam turned to Simon, her eyes ablaze. “Well, June’s ’elping me not to lose faith in the power of God. Reverend Inman may come through yet.”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

Sam grinned. “That’s not sayin’ we might not all ’ave to give God a wee bit of ’elp.”

Simon lifted his cup, and June filled it with hot coffee. Cocking an ear, Simon listened. “What’s all that pounding?”

“Ow, that. Joe’s putting a new floor on the back porch. Harold Stinson donated lumber from the old cabin ’e tore down last week.”

Sam lifted the curtain window to look out. The children were playing in the yard with the few wooden toys Simon and Joe had made for them. She let the curtain fall back into place. When a knock sounded at the back door, Sam sprang up to answer it.

“Parker! I didn’t expect you this morning.”

“I hear Joe’s working on the porch—” Parker looked over her shoulder. “Simon?”

Simon waved from his place at the table. “Guess you’re here to help build the porch too?”

Parker nodded. “Thought Pine Ridge could do without me for a day.”

Sam noticed the twinkle in his eyes. “Have you brought someone with you?”

“Oh, there are a couple of wagons outside. They just happen to be full of shingles that my men cut—”

“Shingles!” Sam flung her arms around his neck and held on. “The roof! You’re goin’ to patch the roof.” Sam couldn’t imagine not having to sidestep pots in the middle of the floor.

She stepped back, aware Parker was straining to see around her.

June lowered her eyes, blushing at Parker’s gaze.

“Hello, June.”

My, it was awfully warm in here all of a sudden! “Parker,” she said. “How good of you to come and help with the roof.”

He smiled at her. Never taking his gaze from her, he said to Sam, “Think I can tear Joe away from the porch long enough to help unload those shingles?”

Sam fairly danced out the back door. “Joe! Come quick! Parker just brought shingles!” She raced back to the table and flung her arms around Simon’s neck. “Glory be! You hear that, love? Shingles!”

Looking at Parker, June said, “You have no idea what this means. I wish I could think of some way to thank you.”

“The smiles on your faces are thanks enough.” Parker glanced at the fresh pot of coffee. “And maybe a cup of whatever that is that smells so good.”

Simon finished off his sandwich and stood up. “Guess those shingles won’t unload themselves.”

Parker settled his hat back on his head. “Guess not.”

“And I’ll pray that God will hold back the rain until you’re finished,” June promised.

Before sunup the following morning, Parker and Simon returned with four other loggers in tow. While Angeline rested in her attic room, the men began tearing off the old roof.

Warning the children to stay out of the way, Sam and June planned to cook all morning in preparation for the noon meal. Parker had delivered two boxes of groceries the day before.

“When I unloaded the boxes, guess what I found,” Sam asked June.

June couldn’t guess.

“Ten whole dollars in the bottom of the basket!” Sam slid four loaves of white bread dough into the oven to bake.

“Who do you think put it there?”

“I ’spect it be Parker—or me Simon. When I asked Simon ’bout it, he just shrugged and said the tooth fairy most likely did it.”

“Did you know today is Parker’s birthday?” June asked as she wiped a bowl and set it back on the shelf.

“Is it, now?” Sam dumped pea pods into a bucket. “Then we have to do something special for him.” She handed one of the orphans, Mary Ann, the bucket. “Empty it outdoors, lovey.”

“Well, I know Parker favors chocolate cake.”

“Chocolate cake, eh? I’ll need to check the pantry, but I think we have the proper ingredients for a chocolate cake.”

“I’ll make it,” Mary Jane volunteered, “if you’ll show me how.”

“I’ll be glad to.” June grinned. “I’ll tell you what to do, and you do it. It’ll be a great surprise for Parker.”

June had decided the older girls needed tutoring in the basics of cooking and sewing. Together they’d repaired sheets, learned to darn socks, and were now starting to knit sweaters for the younger children’s Christmas presents. June knew it would take all summer to finish the items since most of the girls were under the age of twelve.

Aunt Angeline, though failing, often came downstairs to sit with them, providing a critical eye, advice, or direction on a proper stitch. June enjoyed Angeline’s presence. It reminded her of the hours she’d spent under Aunt Thalia’s watchful supervision.

With June standing by, Mary Jane sifted flour, cocoa, baking soda, baking powder, and salt into a large bowl.

Cracking three eggs into the dry ingredients, the child added sugar, vanilla, and thick buttermilk.

In no time at all, a heavenly aroma rose from the oven. Mary Jane skipped off to tell the other orphans about the special treat she’d helped make for Mr. Sentell.

June poured two cups of coffee and took a seat across the table from Sam.

“You’re so good at this, lovey. I don’t know ’ow you cope so well.”

“I love children—I hope to have a whole houseful someday.”

“Ever give any thought to who the proud papa will be?”

“If I did, I wouldn’t tell you,” June teased.

Sam brushed a handful of unruly red locks back from her face. “I wish I had your confidence. Seems I’m having more than me share of doubts of late.”

“Simon?” June guessed.

“No, not me Simon. ’e’s the salt of the earth, ’e is. No, I’m thinkin’ if anything happens to Auntie, I’ll have to go back to England.”

“And you don’t want to?”

“Ow, it’s not that I don’t love me country; it’s just I’ve grown to love the children. Feel like me own, they do. Would break me ’eart if they had to go to foster homes.”

“Yes, I can see that.”

“June, when we first came here, we believed God wanted us here. But when we first came, we thought we’d be doing somethin’ entirely different than what we’re doin’ now. Does that mean God was wrong?”

June’s eyes softened. “I’ve wondered the same thing myself, at times. But I do believe that God is never wrong, Sam. He doesn’t make mistakes.”

Sam took a sip of coffee. “If that be true, then you think he’ll make all this trouble and woe work for his glory?”

“I have to believe that. And if Reverend Inman has temporarily lost his way, God will make him aware of it. In his own time.”

“I certainly hope so, lovey—I certainly hope so.”

Thirty minutes later June stepped out the back door and into a hubbub. The children danced around in the yard, playing spirited games. Men crawled over the orphanage like bees on a honeycomb. It wasn’t quite noon yet, and they’d already torn off half the old roof.

“Dinner’s ready,” June called.

“Good thing,” Parker yelled back.

She shaded her eyes against the sun, looking up to where he stood on the tallest roof peak.

His silhouette was clear against the sky, and June’s heart skipped a beat. He was incredibly big and strong. They might not see eye to eye on Reverend Inman or the tabernacle, but there was a lot of good in Parker. As hard as he tried to hide it, it was there. It would be so very easy to fall in love with this man—She caught her errant thoughts as Aunt Angeline appeared and slowly made her way to a chair sitting beneath a tree in the backyard, where she could oversee the younger children.

“Are you all right, Auntie?” June called.

The old woman waved, covering her lap with a light blanket.

“She’s so frail,” Sam fretted as June returned to the kitchen. “But she wants to ’elp.”

“I worry about her.”

“You shouldn’t, love. She’s ’ad a good life, and she’s lookin’ forward to meetin’ the Lord. I try to make ’er rest—lately she’s been more willing. I think she’s just plain wearin’ out.”

The men washed up and took their places at the large table set up in the backyard. They dug in, filling their plates with roast beef, chicken swimming in rich broth with dumplings, peas, corn, turnips, mashed potatoes, and loaves of fresh-baked bread.

“You’re going to make us all fat,” Parker teased, shoving back from his plate a while later. June smiled, pleased that he’d eaten four servings of everything.

The men visited for a while to let their food digest. Parker finally stretched, then said, “I guess the work won’t get done with us sitting here.”

June sprang up. “Don’t go yet!” She gave Mary Jane the prearranged signal. Shortly before, three of the older girls had disappeared to the kitchen to slice wedges of chocolate cake with thick fudge icing.

They now carried trays of dessert out to the makeshift tables in the yard.

“What’s this?” Simon exclaimed.

“Happy birthday, Parker!” Sam shouted.

Parker looked genuinely stunned and a little embarrassed. His eyes fastened on June. “How did you know?”

“Simon looked it up in the camp records.” She blushed. “I hope you don’t mind. I always like to know a person’s birthday.”

He took in the cake and the festive icing as if he still couldn’t believe it. “I haven’t had a birthday cake since, well, I don’t remember when.” He dipped a large spoon into the icing and closed his eyes to savor the taste. “This is good.” He opened his eyes, grinning. “Really good.”

After dessert the men settled on the porch to rest before climbing back onto the roof. The weather was mild, and some shed their shirts. Some of the boys joined them, and June was appalled when a spitting match began.

Although she didn’t want to encourage their antics, she couldn’t help but see how the little ones gravitated to the men. After a while the older boys took out the pocketknives they had received as Christmas gifts and attempted to carve toys for the younger children. Parker and Simon knelt on the ground, showing them how to carve whistles.

Before long the air resonated with the shrill sounds.

“I hope this doesn’t get to be a habit,” Sam complained, wincing as another screech split the air.

June laughed. “Isn’t it wonderful to see the children having such a good time?”

Soon the sounds of hammers filled the air. The men nailed new shingles on the half of the roof they’d exposed that morning. June helped Sam settle the younger children for naps, though she seriously doubted that sleep was possible with all the racket.

Angeline, though, seemed to have no problem sleeping through the noise.

It was late afternoon when the men came off the roof and settled in the grass to eat sandwiches made from roast beef and bread left over from lunch.

“It’s been a good day of work,” one of the loggers commented, looking up at the new shingles.

“It’s been a very good day of work,” Sam agreed. “I wish I could think of some way to thank you for all you’ve done.”

Parker was sitting on the grass, a sandwich in one hand, a glass of cold well water in the other. Sweat ran in rivulets down his face, and he wiped it away with his forearm. June watched, thinking he’d never looked more handsome. He finished the food, stretched, and pushed himself up. He said a few words to the men, smiled June’s way, and started toward the front yard.

Groaning, Simon and the other men got to their feet and headed toward the wagons. Sam ran to catch up with Simon.

June quickly ducked into the house, exiting the front door as Parker rounded the corner.

“Parker?”

When he turned, the setting sun washed his face in golden color, defining his rugged features. June inhaled sharply. How handsome he was! “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you for the cake,” he said. “I don’t know when . . .” He paused. “Well, my birthdays come and go with no fuss. In fact, I’d forgotten the date myself.”

“How old are you?” she teased. The records said he was twenty-nine.

“Too old for birthday cake,” he said dryly.

“Nobody’s ever too old for birthday cake.” June wished the butterflies fluttering in her stomach would settle down. “I made something for you.”

“More surprises?”

She handed him the package and waited while he opened it. He held the quilted squares up to the light, examining them. Her heart sank. Why didn’t he say something? Didn’t he know what they were? Or did he know and just not like the idea of her giving him a gift?

“They’re . . . hand warmers.” She stepped closer, aware of his masculine scent, all warm and musky. “See? There’s a round stone for each finger. You warm the stones on the rail around the stove, then when you go outside, you slip them inside your gloves. Or when you come inside, you hold the stones for a few minutes to warm your hands—”

He looked up, and she could swear there was a strange mist in his eyes. “I—no one has ever made me a gift.”

June smiled. “No one? Ever?”

“No one. Ever. I’ve been on my own since I was fourteen, June. And even when Ma and Pa were alive . . . well, there were a lot of kids at home.” He looked at the hand warmers. “This is . . . The warmers will come in handy come fall and winter. Thank you.”

“Happy birthday.”

He hesitated, and for a moment she thought he would kiss her. She realized she’d like that, very much. But then he turned on his heel and strode quickly toward the wagon.

Think of me, Parker, every time you see those hand warmers, every time you hold them.

She returned to the house to finish cleaning up the kitchen, wondering what kind of childhood Parker had endured. If he’d never been given a gift, if birthday surprises were foreign to him, no wonder he was so touched by the orphans’ plight.

No wonder he found a tabernacle a poor substitute for caring for God’s children.

“Parker Sentell, if you belonged to me, you’d have gifts every day of the week,” she whispered as she poured boiling water into the sudsy dishpan. “And I’d bake chocolate cakes and apple pies until they were coming out your ears. We’d worship in an open field every Sunday morning, if that suited you.”

She washed a cup and set it aside to drain dry. “God loves you; Eli loved you, Parker Sentell. And I could love you too, if you’d let me.”