3

The day of Pastor Klingle’s funeral dawned cloudy and then cleared as the day progressed. Militine supposed Abrianna would say it was God’s way of honoring the old man. By the time the service started at the church, the weather was actually quite nice. Of course the warming temperatures had caused the frozen ground to turn to muck and slush, but no one seemed to mind.

Militine sat sandwiched between Abrianna and a young lady named Tabitha Cooper. The latter was a slim blond-haired woman with a rather plain face. She hailed from New York and talked with a funny accent that Militine found amusing. The best thing about Tabitha, however, was that she was shy and said very little.

Brother Mitchell, the head elder of their church, addressed the crowd. “Today we are celebrating the life of our dear Pastor Klingle—a man of uncommon generosity and wisdom.” The elder lowered his head, coughed, and shifted his weight from one foot to another.

“God rest his soul,” Miss Poisie declared loud enough for all to hear.

Murmured amens filled the sanctuary.

Another cough from the elder, his emotion sincere. “We thought it only appropriate that we ask one of Pastor Klingle’s good friends to speak on this occasion, therefore I will now turn the service over to the Reverend Swanson.” He took his seat as the older man approached the pulpit.

The man smiled down on the flock. “Let us pray. Father in heaven, we thank you for the life of our good friend Jefferson Klingle. We thank you for his work on earth and the many souls he touched. May we celebrate his life in the reflection of your glory. May we bring you honor and praise as we consider the joy and encouragement this man gave to his congregation and to many strangers on the street. We join now, although with heavy hearts at the loss we suffer, in joy of our brother’s journey home, where he will forever worship you with the saints. Amen.”

Militine raised her head as Reverend Swanson began sharing a comical story of when he and Pastor Klingle first met. How strange it seemed that such happiness should be shared on such a dismal occasion.

“Jefferson was not much for the cold damp of our climate. He preferred the sunny Georgia coastal land of his youth. But God called him to Seattle, and Jefferson boldly answered the call. So picture if you would the first day of May with a light drizzle falling on our fair city. But for Seattle it was otherwise a beautiful spring day. I was walking down the street heading to a meeting when Jefferson came bursting out of his hotel. He was wearing a heavy raincoat, a winter coat, and a suit coat, and I believe he might also have had on a sweater. I thought I had been attacked by some wild animal. The collision was such that it knocked us both to the ground, whereupon Jefferson promptly landed in a huge puddle of water.” Many in the congregation snickered.

“I righted myself and extended my hand to Jefferson to help him up. He looked up at me with the most forlorn expression and, before accepting my help, asked, ‘Is there nothing warm and dry to be had in this town?’ We became instant friends in that moment. I shall always remember him fondly, often huddled by the fire on days I thought quite hot.” The man paused and held open his arms. “I think it would be most fitting if others would share their stories. Just stand up and tell us what Pastor Klingle meant to you or what he might have helped you through.”

Without delay several men rose to their feet. “I’ll tell you what,” one began, “Pastor Klingle helped me forgive my brother after he did me wrong. My brother didn’t even care that he’d robbed me blind. He took everything I had coming to me from our pa and never once asked forgiveness. There was a powerful anger in me, and it was tearin’ apart my insides. I was sick both from the rage and from the bottle I used to ease my misery. Pastor Klingle came to tend me when I was in the worst of it. He prayed with me and spoke to me from the Bible. He even told me of times when anger had got the best of him. He told me he had learned a hard lesson about forgiveness and that a man needs to forgive more for his own sake than for the sake of the other feller.

“I thought a long time on that. After I sobered up, I took Pastor up on his offer to come to church. That Sunday he just happened to preach on Jacob and Esau and told how Jacob stole Esau’s birthright and all the trouble it caused. Made me realize my brother and me were just like that.” He gave a sheepish smile as he glanced around the sanctuary. “I tell you, I had to sit tight until I heard how that all turned out.”

Abrianna giggled, as did most everyone else. The man was so intense in his telling that Militine, too, longed to know how the story resolved.

“Well, in the end old Jacob had a lot of troubles. My brother, too. Jacob even knew that at one point Esau was plannin’ to kill him. God knows I wanted to get revenge on my brother. Anyhow, Pastor Klingle told how God used even the deceptions and evil dealings of one brother to turn things around where it benefited them both. I can’t say that’s how it happened for me and mine, but I remember Pastor told of the liberty that came for both brothers in forgiveness and how they could lay the past to rest. I wanted that as much as I thought I wanted another drink. So I got down on my knees and prayed that day. It made all the difference, and Pastor Klingle was the one who brought me to where I could see that my own hatred was what kept me all bound up.”

Ahead of her in the next pew, Militine saw Abrianna’s three aunts nod and wipe away tears. Another man told of his love for Pastor Klingle and how the man had once given him his last dollar to help him buy bread and meat for his family. Still another mentioned the way the pastor lent a helping hand with cutting firewood when the parishioner had broken his arm.

“He wasn’t all that good at chopping,” the man said with a twinkle in his eyes, “but he was so entertaining, I all but forgot the pain.”

Other stories spilled from parishioners, and by the time the funeral concluded, the congregants wore beaming smiles and continued sharing laughs, accounts of the past, and their love of this great man. A sadness washed over Militine. She hadn’t bothered to know Pastor Klingle as anything more than the boring old man who tormented her every Sunday with his boring old teachings from a boring old book. It would seem there was far more to the man than she’d realized. This puzzled and troubled her greatly. What had she missed?

A dinner was offered after the service, and Militine did her best to be open and friendly with others in the congregation. However, she soon tired of trying to be someone she wasn’t and was grateful that the dinner passed quickly. Finally, with most everyone occupied with dessert and conversation, Militine took the opportunity to slip away. No destination called to her, but by the time she reached the church graveyard, she knew her real desire was to be absent from so many people.

Taking a seat on a small stone bench, she drew in a deep breath. The sunlight seemed muted but strong enough to offer a slight warming to her face. For several minutes she simply relished the silence, but then her mind began to wander.

Her expectations for the day had been nothing like what actually happened. She’d imagined episodes of sorrowful mourning and had steeled herself for such. But these people seemed quite joyous through their tears. Reverend Swanson had even said they were there to celebrate the life of Pastor Klingle. It seemed absurd that a funeral should be a celebration. A party to honor the dead?

“I saw you slip away. I hope you don’t mind if I join you.” Thane’s strong voice settled over her like a warm blanket.

She looked up and gave him a smile. “Not at all. I hope that my escape wasn’t noted by anyone else. I’d hate for everyone to come seek me out.”

Thane shrugged and sat down on a stone bench opposite her. With nothing but the small rock path between them and sentinels of marble and granite around them, the flesh and bone couple seemed oddly out of place. Militine, however, found comfort in the isolation and solitude of the moment.

“I needed to think.” He hadn’t asked for an explanation, but for some reason she felt she needed to offer one. “I’m not used to so many people in one place.”

“I kind of figured that. You never seem real comfortable at the school’s gatherings.”

“Well, that’s for an entirely different reason.” She met his compassionate gaze. Perhaps he already understood. “I don’t really feel accepted. I’ve always been . . . well . . . rather clumsy and ignorant. I never know what to talk about, and when I do speak, it always seems to come out wrong.”

“I think you talk quite eloquently.”

She laughed. “Only because of the elocution lessons. Goodness, but I do weary of proper etiquette and speech.”

“So why bother then?”

Folding her hands together, Militine hoped Thane might accept her simple explanation. “I had nowhere else to go. I have no family, and marriage seemed impossible given my inability to do much of anything.”

“I don’t have any family, either. They’re all dead.” Thane picked a piece of lint from his coat. “I suppose I ought to sound more grieved over it, but it’s been a long time.”

“Were you . . . were you close?” The words came hard.

“No.” He offered nothing more, and knowing the need for privacy Militine didn’t pry.

“Sometimes,” she said after a great pause, “I feel I have more in common with the dead than the living.”

He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. “Me too. I suppose when there’s been a lot of death and dying in your past, it’s that way. I never quite got past it. Never have talked to anyone about it except Wade, and sometimes I wish I’d kept it from him, as well. I don’t need anyone feeling sorry for me.”

“Exactly. I don’t want that, either.” She shivered, but not from the cold. “I just want to forget.”

“Yes.”

She didn’t know what else to say. It seemed strange that she should find a kindred spirit here in the graveyard on the day of a good man’s funeral. How odd that they would find themselves together, each sharing such an obviously painful past. “Do you think God really cares about each of us?”

Thane cocked his head to one side and then stroked his beard. “I know He’s supposed to. Wade talks about God like that. I can’t say that I’ve ever known that for myself. Seems if He cared so much, a whole lot of bad things wouldn’t happen.”

“My mother taught me that God loves everyone. I tried to hold on to that all my life. I figured if God was real and loved everybody, no one should have to worry about things like hell and heaven.” She could see nothing but acceptance in his gaze. “Abrianna talks about hell and losing my soul. I can’t say for certain that I understand or believe—especially that God loves everybody.”

“What changed your mind?”

Militine paused but hoped he might understand. “The evil in this world.”

“There’s a lot of it.”

It wasn’t the reply she’d expected. It seemed funny that this normally passive young man should speak with authority on such a dark topic. She found herself looking deeper into his eyes. The pain that stared back at her was almost startling. “Yes.” The word came out in a whisper.

The day after the funeral Abrianna once again took charge of getting her mission accomplished. If only her friends could be as passionate about these things as she was. No matter. She would carry on as planned. They just needed the right push. “I know you’ll see the potential,” she told Wade and Thane. “It’s perfect for what I want to do. Come on, boys, pick up your feet or this will take all day.”

Wade offered a weak protest. “Grief, Abrianna, it’s not like the building is going anywhere.”

Nevertheless he did increase his speed. “I realize it’s not going anywhere, but Mr. Layton might. He promised he’d be there at ten o’clock, and it’s nearly that now. Although why he picked ten and not noon, I cannot say. I suggested we meet there at the dinner hour so I wouldn’t have to drag you two away from work. I do apologize for that.”

“Do your aunts know you’re down here?” Wade asked and Thane gave a muffled laugh.

She didn’t like being so predictable, but there was nothing to do but be honest. “They don’t, but I will tell them in time. You know how it is, Wade. Aunt Miriam believes there is danger on every corner.”

“And so there is, especially where you’re involved.” His comment caused Thane to laugh out loud.

Abrianna fixed Wade with her fiercest glare, but that only seemed to make matters worse.

“I think the danger is on the part of anyone who messes with our Abrianna,” Thane announced. “Just imagine it. Someone dares try to assault her, and she launches into a speech on why it’s not only unacceptable on their part, but they are delaying her from important business elsewhere.”

“No doubt,” Wade agreed. “And then she’d offer them cookies.”

“See if I offer you any cookies again.” She turned to Thane. “Or you.”

“Now, Abrianna, don’t get your ribbons in a knot.” Thane came to her left and took hold of her arm. “You know I’m not trying to be mean. We just worry about you.”

“It’s a full-time job.” Wade took hold of her right arm and sandwiched her between them. “I swear I spend more time keeping up with you than I do my woodworking. I have three orders I’m behind on, and all because of these kinds of escapades.”

She stopped in midstep. Contrition mingled with her guilt. “I am sorry for that. I had no idea. I can be so unthinking. You know that I never meant for that to happen. Aunt Miriam always tells me that a man’s worth is tied up in his job. I hope I’ve not damaged your self-worth, Wade. You either, Thane. You are both very worthy men, and it grieves me to think I might have caused trouble for you in this manner.

“If your self-worth is in question, I would have suggested speaking to Pastor Klingle, but since he has passed on, that would obviously do no good. I suppose you can pray about it. I certainly will.” She looked from one puzzled expression to the other. Neither man seemed to understand her words. “Am I not making sense?”

Wade laughed and tightened his hold on her arm. “You seldom do, but that hasn’t stopped me from participating in your exploits. Just rest assured our self-worth is doing just fine.”

“Oh good. Look, there’s Mr. Layton. Come along.” She pulled the men forward as she hurried to greet the older man. “Mr. Layton, thank you so much for agreeing to see me here.”

“I had my misgivings,” he said as he tipped his hat. “Are these your brothers?”

Abrianna laughed. “In a way. They both seem to pester me as a brother might a sister. Sometimes I feel they do so just to vex me into silence or inactivity, but I do not yield to such games.”

“I’m sure you don’t.” Mr. Layton nodded his head toward Wade and Thane. “I’m James Layton. I suppose you know from Miss Cunningham that I own this building.”

Wade and Thane nodded and followed the man’s gaze. Abrianna could tell by their expressions they didn’t think much of the dilapidated shack.

“It needs a great deal of work. You did say I could alter it. These gentlemen will assist me in that endeavor.”

“You may do anything you like so long as it is an improvement.”

Wade shook his head. “I think even knocking it down would be an improvement.”

“Nonsense.” Abrianna took a pencil and pad of paper from her coat pocket. “I’m not afraid of a little work. Now, Mr. Layton, you named a price that I felt was a bit high. I propose to reduce that amount by ten percent. Also, because I will be putting a great deal of money into the repairs, I expect my first month’s rent to be waived.”

“I never agreed to that!” The man’s face reddened. “I knew it was trouble dealing with a woman.”

“You have no idea,” Wade muttered under his breath.

“You may not have agreed to it yet,” Abrianna said, reaching into her pocket once again, “however, I am prepared to improve your building above the cost of what one month’s rent will total, and I will pay the second month in advance.” She held up the cash. “Now, have we a deal or not?”

The man looked to Wade and then to Thane, as if for help. Abrianna waited patiently for him to fully weigh the proposal. The shack had been empty for months, and no one else seemed at all inclined to benefit this man with either repair or rent.

“I feel as if I have no choice in the matter. No say whatsoever,” Mr. Layton declared.

Wade nodded. “It’s better that way. If you don’t give in, she’ll just go into a long lecture on why she’s right and you’re wrong. It could go on for hours and hours. This way, if you agree, you’ll be on your way and we can be on ours, and maybe all of us will manage to have a hot lunch. Otherwise, I fear we might be here until well into the afternoon.”

The man shuddered, as if the very thought were too much to take in. Abrianna didn’t care what argument Wade used, so long as the man was swayed to see things her way. It really seemed much too simple a matter to complicate for long.

Finally, with a mutter of unintelligible words, Mr. Layton nodded. “Very well. I shall accept your offer.”

Abrianna handed him the money and then fished out two pieces of paper from her pocket. “Sign these. You’ll see that I already have signed my name at the bottom.”

“Excuse me?” The man took the paper and scanned it.

“It says that we have an agreement for the amount of rent and the repairs. It also states that I will lease this building from you for one year without any increase of rent.”

Again the man looked to Wade, then shook his head. “I will sign it.” He did just that and handed her back one of the pages and a key to the building.

Abrianna smiled. “I appreciate doing business with you, Mr. Layton.” She held up the key. “Come along, gentlemen, and we will assess what is to be done.”

Mr. Layton hurriedly dismissed himself, almost seeming afraid he might be forced to participate. Meanwhile, Wade leaned down and whispered in her ear, “Why would anyone put a lock on the place? A good wind could knock it down.”

She paid him no attention. It was better not to give in to his theatrics. Goodness, but men seemed to make much ado about nothing.

She unlocked the door and pushed it open, very nearly pushing it off its hinges. “I shall put that first on my list.” She glanced around the room, chiding herself for having forgotten the lantern. “I know it’s dimly lit and has only one window, but we can remedy that. I propose we add an additional window.”

“You propose that, do you?” Thane said, touching one of the exterior walls. “You want us to put a window in this paper-thin wall?”

“We can reinforce it,” she said in complete exasperation. “Honestly, must I think of everything? I brought you two here to be helpful. Now do your jobs.” Fearing her statement had come out too harsh, Abrianna turned to face them both and smiled sweetly. “Aunt Miriam and the girls are making Danish pastries today. The dough is light and flaky, and there are a variety of fillings. Cherry and berry and apple. Oh, and peach. I know how you like peach, Thane. The sooner we get this list of supplies figured out, the sooner you two can walk me back and just happen to get in on an early lunch. I figured you’d especially like that, Wade.”

It was always easy to talk Wade into helping when food was involved. It was a wonder the man didn’t weigh as much as old Mr. Phinster at the apothecary. It was rumored his girth made it impossible to climb the stairs to his abode, so he just set up a bed at the back of his shop.

Wade crossed his arms and sighed. “All right, Abrianna. What exactly do you have in mind?”