Chapter Twelve

No matter how bad things are, they can always get worse.

Until yesterday June hadn’t thought much about Aunt Thalia’s old adage, but today it was back to haunt her.

Standing beneath an umbrella, she listened to Reverend Inman recite Psalm 23 to the small group of assembled mourners. Overnight, things had gotten worse. Much worse.

“‘The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul. . . .’”

The fiery man of God’s Word seemed uncharacteristically subdued this morning as Reverend Inman finalized Angeline’s simple graveside service with a heartfelt whispered “Amen and amen.”

June drew Sam into the comfort of her arms while the young girl sobbed quietly into a frayed hankie. Rain clouds hovered overhead, and the mourners sank deeper into the lining of their coats. A cold rain began to fall.

June focused on the mourners gathered to eulogize Angeline Ferriman, the woman known to many as “that poor soul responsible for all those children.”

In life Angeline hadn’t cultivated many close friendships; in death, neighbors and community members gathered to pay homage to the slightly eccentric woman who had run the local orphanage. Heads bowed, dressed in Sunday best and spit-shined shoes, they stood before the simple casket and prayed.

Where had they been when Aunt Angie was alive and in desperate need of their help? June wondered.

“Judge not, that ye be not judged.” Jesus’ words shamed her thoughts, and she banished them, wondering instead how Sam would keep the children together now that Angeline was gone.

Ol’ Joe stood next to June, dressed in a thin coat that afforded little protection from the chilly wind. The children huddled in a group on his right side, bracing themselves against the driving rain.

It seemed to June the person who’d known Aunt Angie the least was taking her passing the hardest. Tears rolled down Ben Wilson’s face as he stared at the casket.

Death had come swiftly for Angeline. Though everyone suspected she had been failing for some time, her passing came as a shock. Perhaps it always does, June thought.

Angeline had asked to be buried at the edge of her property, beneath a large Douglas fir she’d planted herself, forty-two springs ago.

Pallbearers, some who had been with Reverend Inman’s crusade in the earlier days when he traveled, others from Pine Ridge Logging Camp, gently lowered the plain pine coffin into the muddy ground.

June was painfully aware of the children’s tear-streaked faces. Though Aunt Angeline had taught them about the Good Book, the joys of Christianity, death, and heaven, most were too young to comprehend.

The older ones understood enough to know that Aunt Angie was never coming back. June wondered about the anguish, the multitude of questions and fears that must be playing through their minds.

When the last prayer was issued, Simon stepped forward and led a weeping Sam from the gravesite.

June was surprised and grateful when Parker took her arm, and they fell into step behind the young couple.

“Terrible day for a funeral,” he observed quietly.

“Sam’s taking her aunt’s death awfully hard.”

“Well, she’s here in a strange community, her family overseas. I imagine she’s scared.”

“She’d grown very close to Angeline.”

“There must be something more I can do to help,” Parker said.

June paused, turning to look at him. He constantly surprised her with his compassion. “If you truly mean that, I’m sure there is.”

“You need only to let me know what’s needed.” He reached for her hand, and his eyes softened as he clasped it tightly in his. “I’ll do what’s possible to keep the children together. Simon and I have already discussed it.”

June’s stomach felt all knotted and strange, a feeling she often had in Parker’s presence these days.

She squeezed his hand, thankful for his comforting presence.

The townspeople provided food for the bereaved. The orphanage’s huge oak table held more food than the children had ever seen at one time, yet the children didn’t seem eager to eat. They sat or stood staring, seemingly unaware it was dinnertime.

Reaching for an apron, June tied it around her waist and approached Mary. “What can I do to help?”

Mary paused, then resumed cutting squares of piping hot corn bread. Brushing a lock of hair off her forehead, she pointed the tip of the knife at a pile of plates. “You can get the children started.”

“That sounds like a job I can handle.”

June turned to see Parker filling the doorway, looking very big, and very out of place in a kitchen. She smiled. “You want to start with the smallest ones first?”

Parker picked up a plate, studying the heaping bowls of mashed potatoes, green beans, turnips, carrots, fried apples, sweet potatoes, and a myriad of other dishes lining the table.

“Fill their plates as you would your own.” June handed him a heaping platter of golden brown fried chicken. “But remember, they don’t eat as much as you.”

Parker grinned. “Nobody eats as much as I do.”

When the plates were ready, June and Parker corralled the children to a corner table. The kids began to eat, methodically swallowing as if they barely tasted the food. June noticed the younger ones’ eyes occasionally searching the room. How they would miss Angeline.

Simon insisted on feeding the youngest child, who was delighted to have the honor of sitting on the big logger’s lap.

Once the children were settled, June drew Sam aside. It might be too soon to discuss the matter, but it weighed on her mind. Steering her friend into the kitchen, June threaded Sam to the far end of the pantry, where they could talk in private. “Sam, is Joe going to stay on and help with the children?”

Freckles stood out on Sam’s pale features. Her eyes were red from weeping. “I’m not sure, lovey; I haven’t been about askin’ ’im, yet.” She walked to the small window and stared out. A heart-wrenching sadness filled her voice. “I suppose he will. . . . I just assume he’ll be stayin’. Ain’t like he’s got a bloomin’ lot of places to be goin’ . . . if you know what I mean.”

June nodded. The orphanage was the only home Joe had known for many years. He was an old man now; starting over would be difficult.

“If he’s not set on stayin’ . . . suppose I could send for me mum. . . . But she’s up in years herself. As white-headed as the snow on them mountains. Done raised her family, she has. And a second one as well, what with me bein’ born so late in life. Don’t think she has the energy to take on all these kiddies.” Sam wiped her hands on her faded apron. “No . . . wouldn’t be right to ask me mum to do such a thing. Would be the death of her, I’m thinkin’.”

June chose her words carefully. Papa had always said, “Say what you mean, and mean what you say, lest you live to regret it.” That’s how she tried to live her life: meaning what she said. “Well, regardless of whether Joe does or doesn’t stay, you’re going to need help.”

“Ow, that be the gospel for sure. No blasphemy intended.” Sam’s words faded to a whisper. “But I’ll tell you this, June Kallahan: I’ll be doin’ it meself if necessary.”

“Sam, that’s a frightening responsibility for one person to assume.”

The familiar spit-and-vinegar spirit Sam ordinarily possessed suddenly bloomed with a vengeance. “I’ll not be shippin’ them poor kiddies off in a million different directions! They may not be me blood kin, but they’re family. We’re family. And we’ll stay a family no matter what.”

June grinned. That’s what she wanted to hear! The old Sam was back. “And I’ll be right beside you,” she declared.

Sam blew her nose. “You’re a good woman, June Kallahan.” Her thin shoulders trembled beneath her thin dress. “Sorry I’m so blessed testy. I should’ve known you had somethin’ up your sleeve. But, me dear, dear friend, you’ve already given so much of your free time helpin’ out round here. Not to mention time making those pretty necklaces so the kiddies can have shoes and peppermint sticks. You got your responsibilities with the crusade, and Sunday services at the loggin’ camps. I don’t see how you can manage to spare another hour.”

“Don’t worry about me. I can fit in a lot more when it comes to the Lord’s work.” June met Sam’s teary gaze. “I’ve been thinking. I want to help more around the orphanage—and I could, if I spent less time traveling back and forth.”

Sam wiped at her eyes. “I expect that’s true.”

June gently squeezed Sam’s hand. “The complex is old and drafty. So is the orphanage, for that matter, so I wouldn’t be any better off there than here. I want to stay here awhile—if you’ll have me.”

“Have you?” Sam started laughing and crying at the same time. “I’d be plumb off me bean to refuse the offer! Oh, June. The kids love you so. And you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. A sister to me, you are. A real sister. Of course I’ll have you!”

“Then it’s settled. I’ll move in first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Me prayers have surely been answered!”

“What prayers?” June teased. “I thought you didn’t like all that praying.”

“Out loud, lovey. When I be by meself, me and the Lord have jolly good talks.”

June was proud of the progress Sam was making. It was the Lord’s doing, but she liked to think she had a small hand in it.

“Sam, I know sometimes it doesn’t always feel like it, nor do circumstances always go according to what we want, but God answers prayers. In his own time and in his own way—sometimes he says yes; sometimes he says no; sometimes he says wait. But always, always, Sam, he answers us.”

“I know he surely does, lovey.” Sam playfully pulled June’s nose. “Lord knows he’s makin’ me see that more and more lately.”

June spotted Joe standing outside the kitchen doorway. “Do you think Joe would mind helping me fetch my things from the complex?”

“I’m sure he wouldn’t.” Sam frowned. “But what about Reverend Inman? What’s he gonna think about all this movin’ about?”

June toyed with a loose strand of hair, avoiding Sam’s anxious look. What would Reverend Inman think about her moving into the orphanage? She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, and she would work just as hard or even harder for the crusade. Sam desperately needed her help, and other than counting money and collecting donations, she wasn’t really needed at the complex. She could be at nightly services; her job with the ministry would be unaffected. How could Reverend Inman object to her helping a friend in need?

Sam’s hazel eyes widened with disbelief. “You mean you haven’t talked with him about movin’ in with a bunch of bloomin’ ragamuffins?”

“You’re not ragamuffins!” June chided. “Besides, it isn’t like I’ve deliberately kept anything from him. I really haven’t had a chance to talk to him. He isn’t a monster, Sam. He’ll recognize the need and insist that I help out.”

“He’ll throw a tizzy fit, he will.” Sam shook her head. “He might be a godly man, but he’s a stubborn one, wearing horse blinders when it comes to that tabernacle. He’ll be hurt, he will.”

A rush of pity washed over June. Her decision to move into the orphanage probably would hurt Reverend Inman’s feelings. After all, he’d been gracious enough to take her in after Eli’s death. But surely he would understand her motives, especially now that Aunt Angeline was gone.

“Reverend Inman will understand. He will consider the circumstances and agree that it’s the only Christian thing to do.”

Sam eyed her skeptically. It was easy to see she didn’t agree with June’s logic.

“Oh, stop worrying. If my decision bothers him—well, I’ll just have to cross that bridge when I get to it.”

“You best be mindin’ your crossin’ and don’t go fallin’ off that bridge,” Sam cautioned.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“The reverend has a way—how do you Yanks say?—a way of wantin’ his own way. Just like a man, eh, lovey?”

“Reverend Inman would never try to talk me out of doing charitable work,” June defended.

“Maybe. Maybe not. But if it comes down to you not bein’ as involved with the crusade—”

“It won’t. My work with the crusade won’t be affected. I’ll make very sure of that.”

Sam’s silence was more eloquent than any words.

June’s impatience surfaced. “Everyone seems to think the tabernacle is all Reverend Inman is concerned about. It isn’t. He cares about his flock—about his people.” June was suddenly trembling, and she didn’t know why. Parker, and now Sam, had implied that Reverend Inman was blinded by greed.

Sam patted her hand. “Maybe I’m bein’ a tad hasty. Who am I to judge the reverend? You know him better than anyone, what with the time you spend with him.”

“I do, and I’ve seen how he works from daylight to dusk, down on his knees day after day, praying for guidance. Everyone connected with Reverend Inman wants to see the tabernacle raised. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t allowed to carry on God’s work in other ways.”

“You don’t need to convince me,” Sam assured her with a warm smile. “I may not know Reverend Isaac Inman, but I know you like the back of me hand. You wouldn’t defend anyone not worth defendin’.”

“Thank you, Sam.” June got so heated when she talked about the tabernacle. She was tired of defending it and Reverend Inman.

“I knew the very day we met on the steamer that our friendship was a keeper.”

June laughed softly. “Kindred spirits, that’s what we are. Everything happens for a reason, Sam. Nothing happens by chance. The Lord brought our paths together for a specific purpose.”

Sam added with a serious note, “You’ve certainly been a godsend to me and the children.”

It was nearing dark when the last wagon rolled out of the orphanage yard. June stayed to clean up while Sam put the children to bed. Parker was one of the last to leave, offering June a ride back to the complex. She thanked him but declined his offer. His day had started before sunup. By the time he waited around for her to finish, took her to the complex, then rode back to camp, it would nearly be time for his new day to start.

Reverend Inman stopped by the kitchen to offer his assistance. June expressed her gratitude but insisted he go ahead, explaining that she wanted to keep Sam company for a while.

Part of her reason was that she wasn’t ready to discuss her plans with Reverend Inman yet. She needed time to digest her decision, think it through, prepare a valid argument.

When she defended Reverend Inman, she meant what she said. He was caring and giving and concerned about others. But some of what Sam contended was true as well. Reverend Inman could be very persuasive when he wanted. It wasn’t that she was afraid he’d talk her out of moving to the orphanage; she had her mind made up about that. She just didn’t want a confrontation, especially after the emotionally draining day.

The rain had stopped, and a cold moon hung low in the sky when Ol’ Joe stopped the wagon in front of the complex. The Indian waited until she was safely inside, then waved and drove away into the night.

Stretching out across the bed, June closed her eyes, her head swimming. The day had been long and difficult.

Eventually she rose, changed into her flannel gown, then said her prayers. Lord, help the children . . . She fell asleep before she could complete her train of thought.

The sun was peeking over the horizon when she awoke, feeling as tired as when she’d gone to bed. Quickly she washed and dressed, then set about packing her few belongings.

She spread the worn patchwork quilt on the single bed and fluffed the pillow, stood back, and then rearranged them, realizing she was procrastinating.

You’re being silly. Reverend Inman will be awake now. Go to him, tell him your plans, share breakfast with him, then ask him to come with you to the orphanage—possibly spend the day with the children. Ol’ Joe will be coming soon. She had no reason to feel such dread. What she was doing was right. The children needed her. And it wasn’t as though she would be neglecting her other responsibilities.

She’d delayed the inevitable as long as she could. Even at this early hour she knew exactly where to find Reverend Inman. He would be in the revival tent, absorbed in his morning devotions. Leaving the complex, she hurried to the tent.

Reverend Inman was kneeling at the altar in prayer. He started each new day in the same manner before preparing the subject of his nightly message. June slipped into the front pew to wait.

When Reverend Inman finished and stood up, he looked around, and a quick smile crossed his face. “June. I didn’t expect to see you up and about so early. You must have stayed at the orphanage quite late. I listened for your return, but I was overcome by exhaustion.”

“It was late when Ol’ Joe brought me home.”

Tight lines around Reverend Inman’s eyes made him look older this morning. June worried that he wasn’t getting enough rest.

He nodded. “I’m told we can expect another large crowd tonight.”

“Praise God.”

“Yes, indeed. Praise his name. Seems there’s a new logging camp not far from the grounds. As unusual as it is, most of the men have brought their families with them. The foreman rode out just yesterday, and we had a pleasant visit. Said he’d heard about our revival all the way to Portland. He’s excited about joining us in worship and promised that others from the camp would be accompanying him.”

“That’s wonderful, Reverend.”

“Yes, it’s exciting to know God’s work is being recognized throughout this great land.”

“Reverend Inman.” June cleared her throat. She needed to get this over with. “I have something I need to tell you.”

His smile faded, and he suddenly looked very old. Shoulders slumped, he sank to the bench. “I suspected as much. You’re leaving me, aren’t you?”

“No, no, Reverend, I’m not leaving you.”

“No, I know you are. I’ve been expecting this.”

June knelt beside the pew, wanting to ease the terrible pain creasing his face. “Reverend Inman, now that Sam’s aunt is gone, she can’t care for all those children by herself. Even if Ol’ Joe stays on, the responsibility is too much for her.” She paused, and the silence was deafening. “I’m moving to the orphanage.”

Sadness played across his face. It seemed an eternity before he spoke. “You want to live at the orphanage?”

“Yes. Sam desperately needs my help. Ol’ Joe is old and not able to keep up with the younger children.”

“But you’re needed here. You give the orphanage hours of service each week.” Reverend Inman ran his fingers through a rim of silvery gray hair. “I don’t understand. Why would you want to abandon Eli’s work? Have you forgotten your calling? Have I been unkind—insensitive?”

“No, you’ve been wonderful, but I am called to do the work of the Lord—”

“Yes!” His voice lost its timidity and swelled with conviction. “And the Lord’s work is here! Have you forgotten the tabernacle?”

No, she hadn’t forgotten the tabernacle, but at times she wished she could. For just one sane moment, she wished she could forget the madness, the sense of urgency that consumed them all. “I’ll contribute no less time—”

“Oh, child! You can’t contribute; you must commit—completely and wholeheartedly commit—to this endeavor. Your every effort must revolve around its completion!”

“Reverend Inman, building the tabernacle is my vision as well as yours, and it was Eli’s. But I feel the Lord has also called me to help care for those children. They have no one but Sam.”

Reverend Inman buried his face in his hands. His shoulders shook with emotion. “I cannot believe I’m hearing this. Has Parker influenced your decision? He doesn’t approve of the tabernacle—is this your reason for leaving?”

“No, Reverend. Parker doesn’t know about my moving. I only made the decision late yesterday afternoon.”

Shaking his head, Reverend Inman stared at the altar. “I can’t begin to tell you how disappointed I am.”

“But you needn’t be.” June wanted desperately for him to understand. “I’ll spend just as much time with the crusade. Moving to the orphanage won’t alter my dedication. I’ll still collect donations at The Gilded Hen, and I’ll stay late after the services—”

“No,” Reverend Inman murmured. “No. It won’t be the same. Eli had complete dedication to the project. You—you will be pulled in a different direction.”

“I don’t mean to hurt you,” June said, feeling sick to her stomach. She didn’t want it to end this way.

“No.” Reverend Inman straightened. “I’m sure you don’t. Go, go to your orphanage. Eli’s dream will live on, with or without your commitment.”

“Please, Reverend. I promised to help Sam only until other arrangements can be made. In the meantime, my work with the crusade will continue. I promise you, I’ll be just as dependable as ever. My enthusiasm won’t wane. Nor will the vision of the tabernacle diminish in my heart.”

Reverend Inman released a weary breath. “I can’t hold you here. You must do what you feel best.”

June stood up, her legs trembling beneath her. She’d expected his disappointment; she had not expected his condemnation. Why must he and Parker see only black and white?

Hanging her head, she said softly, “I’ll be moving my things this morning.”

The reverend appeared to succumb. He sat quietly, looking at nothing. “I’ll have Ben hitch the wagon.”

“Thank you, it won’t be necessary.”

Reverend Inman looked up, as if to confirm her insanity.

“Ol’ Joe’s coming back for me.”

Reverend Inman nodded. “Ol’ Joe.” Hurt rang hollow in his voice. Guilt gnawed at June. She was torn between loyalty to Reverend Inman and devotion to Sam. If Reverend Inman only understood that she wasn’t choosing, that she truly could do both well. “I think I hear Ol’ Joe’s wagon now. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I never meant to.”

Reverend Inman turned away. “You mustn’t keep Joe waiting.”

June edged toward the doorway, torn between going and staying. “I’ll be at services tonight. Just like every night before and every night to come. You’ll see. Nothing will change. I promise you.”