5

PERLA SAW THE WAY Pastor Richard looked at Ella and hoped something might spark between them. As far as she knew, Ella hadn’t really dated since breaking up with that Mark fellow, who always struck her as a little too smooth. She smiled. It might be nice to have a preacher in the family.

She thought back to the admiring look in Richard’s eyes. She’d seen that look before. As a matter of fact, more than one man had looked at her that way over the years. Thank goodness Ella wasn’t quite as naïve as Perla had been that summer of 1948. She hadn’t dwelt on those days for a long time, but if she was going to tell Sadie and Ella about them, she should try to make sure she had it straight—think how she wanted to put it once the words in her head started flowing past her lips again.

She hadn’t known his given name for a long time. It became a game between them. She’d call him Sonny and he’d accuse her of not having enough imagination to guess his real name. Chuck and Imogene called him Sonny if they called him anything at all. But mostly he stayed outside, working as though his life depended on it.

Perla came to admire him—how hard he worked, the pride he took in doing things right. The farm was neat as a pin. Fence mended, barn tidy, garden planted, animals tended to. Perla often worked alongside Sonny, hoeing the garden or minding the animals, and had come to look forward to their talks. She also noticed a restlessness about him that grew with each day that passed.

They were working in the garden one late April afternoon, Perla planting peas and lettuce while Sonny cleared rocks from the furrows.

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” she asked.

“Three older sisters and a brother.” He grunted as he pried loose a large rock half buried in the ground. “Elam, my brother, died over in France. I would have gone after him, but I was too young then.”

“I’m sorry about your brother. I’m an only child so I can’t even imagine how hard that must be.”

“Ma took it hard.” He was silent for a while, and Perla thought to change the subject, but then he spoke again. “Elam left a girl behind, too. She’s the same age as me. Broke her up pretty bad.”

“How awful.” Perla sifted soil over tiny black seeds and patted it down. “I’ve never had a serious beau.” She flushed. What made her say that?

“No?” He grinned at her, stretching out his back. “Can’t see why not. Seems like your pa would have to chase ’em off with a stick.”

Perla felt her braid slither over her shoulder as she knelt. She looked up at him through pale eyelashes. She might try flirting a little, but she’d never really known how. “Guess not.”

“Probably you’re so pretty they’re scared of you,” he said. And the frank admiration in his eyes warmed her more than the April sun ever could.

She cleared her throat. “What about your sisters? Any of them married?”

“Every single one. Got you’uns too.” He bent to his work again, sending up the scent of the soil as he hefted stones. “I’m an uncle five times over. Oldest one isn’t but two years younger than me.”

“Do you want children?” Again, Perla was amazed at herself. Such questions to ask a young man.

“I want at least six or seven—as many as I can get. How about you?”

He wasn’t looking directly at her now, but she felt overwarm just the same. “I’d like to have a few—maybe not that many—but more than one. It’s hard being just one.”

Sonny laughed, yet it sounded harsh. “Just be glad you don’t have to be responsible for anyone but your own self.”

Ella woke in her grandmother’s spare bedroom on another sunny Sunday morning. She’d opted to stay with Gran after Aunt Sadie returned to Ohio. There were therapy appointments, follow-up doctor visits, and ongoing treatments, all of which Ella was happy to coordinate. Plus there was plenty of time to work on her art—or try to—while Gran napped, read, or watched television. And although Gran still couldn’t speak very well, Ella had a knack for understanding her.

“Do you still want to go to church this morning?” Ella asked after they’d finished breakfast.

Gran sat at the kitchen table finishing a second cup of coffee. She nodded her head.

“Just because I understand you doesn’t mean you can give up talking,” Ella teased as she wrung out the dishrag and hung it over the kitchen faucet.

Gran frowned, looking intently at the sink.

“What is it?” Ella asked, raising her eyebrows and trying to look innocent.

Gran frowned harder and pointed at the dishrag.

“Yes?” Ella slid into a seat next to her grandmother.

With a huff, Gran gripped her mug and began to speak. “Dish. Rag goes. Uh-uh-under sink.”

“Oh, right.” Ella got up to hang the cloth on a hook inside the cabinet door. “There we go.”

Gran rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Looking for—ward to church.”

“Me too. I’m going to go get ready now. Holler if you need anything.”

Gran gulped some coffee. “Ha-ha-holler indeed.”

Ella patted Gran on the shoulder and disappeared into the bathroom, thinking about how appealing the new pastor was and how it might be time to consider her options again. Of course, there was also that handsome Seth Markley to consider. She wondered if he ever came to church as she pondered what to wear.

Finally walking out into the family room in an outfit she hoped was attractive without being obvious, Ella found her grandmother sitting on the sofa. Gran patted the spot next to her.

Ella sat, and her grandmother handed her a small velvet box. Clicking it open, Ella found a narrow gold band with a small diamond nestled inside.

“Mine,” Gran said. “Casewell.” She cleared her throat. “Gave that-t-t me. Best day. Of my life.” She smiled at Ella, a tear glittering in the corner of her eye. “Yours now.”

Ella felt tears of her own rise. She had often admired the ring—especially as a child when all she saw was the way it sparkled. She noticed when her grandmother quit wearing it, when arthritis made it difficult to slip the ring over swollen knuckles. When she was little, Ella had imagined that it was a jewel beyond price. Now, as she slipped the band over her right ring finger, she realized how priceless it was. She hugged her grandmother. “I wouldn’t trade it for a million dollars.”

“I know,” Gran said, and it was the clearest she’d spoken since coming home.

The two pulled apart, and Gran patted Ella’s hand, now adorned with a family heirloom. Ella tried not to notice that her grandmother looked a little sad.

At Laurel Mountain Church, Ella slid into the pew that had been holding members of the Phillips family since its founding more than 150 years earlier. Mom, Dad, Gran, Will, and Will’s girlfriend, Laura, made it a tight fit, especially since so many other pews were empty. Her grandmother’s ring gleaming on her finger, Ella smoothed a hand across the well-worn wood of the pew in front of her. Generations of Phillipses surely had touched this exact spot.

A little girl rang the bell to call church to order. It once called folks from the hills and hollers to the churchyard for Sunday services, but now Ella supposed they rang it mostly in memory and in hopes of reminding those who didn’t or couldn’t come to church that God still dwelt among them.

After announcements and the opening prayer, Pastor Richard stood and began the service. He looked handsome in a black robe with a burgundy tie peeking out at the top. Ella thought the robe was a bit much for their little country church, but she couldn’t deny it lent a certain grandeur to the proceedings.

Instead of focusing on the sermon, she mostly daydreamed about how one of these days she’d have a husband who’d sit beside her in church—or maybe even stand behind the pulpit. They would build a house and studio for her out on the ridge beyond Gran’s cottage. They’d live there, part of one big happy family, carrying on the Phillips family tradition for another generation.

Now, if only she could find the right man to fill that role. . . .

After the service, Ella intended to get Gran in the car and whisk her back home, but as usual everyone wanted to stop and talk. Ella kept steering Gran toward the car, trying not to be outright rude, until Mavis Sanders cornered them. She leaned in close and grabbed each of them by an elbow.

“Perla, have you heard about the church being sold?”

Ella rolled her eyes. “Mavis, that’s not going to happen. Someone’s been telling you stories.”

Mavis either didn’t hear or didn’t care. “I heard some big-city developer is planning to come in and run us off the land. He wants to build cabins or some such and needs the church property. He’s been buying up land all around. Milton Samuels sold out, packed up, and moved to Florida just last week.”

Ella didn’t want to listen to Mavis tell tales, but at the same time felt annoyed that someone was spreading such silly rumors. “Gran, haven’t you been saying Milton’s been threatening to move to Florida for the past ten years? Maybe he finally decided it was time.”

Mavis thumped her cane on the ground. “Humph. Or maybe some outside meddler talked him into it.”

Ella felt fear tighten her belly, even though she told herself it was silly. “Maybe it’s just a rumor. Do you know someone wants to buy the church property for sure?”

“Poke your head in the sand if you want, Ella Phillips, but my family helped start this church as much as yours did, and I’m not going to let some outsider come in and ruin everything.”

Ella desperately wanted to spin on her heel and walk away, but she couldn’t leave Gran. After a few minutes she managed to appease Mavis enough to get free of the conversation and tuck Gran into the passenger seat of the car.

“What do you make of all that?” she asked, trying to sound light.

Gran took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Mavis gets the news first.” She clenched her hands in her lap and scrunched her face. “Doesn’t mean it’s right.” She exhaled, then tilted her head to the side. “Could be a grain of tru-truth, though.”

Ella felt something like hysteria bubble up under her rib cage. “I know church attendance has been down, but surely it wouldn’t make sense to sell. Richard just got here—they have to give him a chance.”

Gran turned those cornflower eyes of hers on Ella. “God’s in control,” she said. Then she leaned her head back against the seat as though the morning had exhausted her, which it most likely had.

Ella felt bad that coming to church and hearing from Mavis had taken a toll on Gran. Even so, she was grateful for the scrap of information. If the church really was in danger, she needed to know. This was her family’s heritage, and she would fight for it.

Perla kept her eyes closed as Ella drove them home. She felt exhausted. Going to church and focusing on uttering even a few coherent sentences had taken all the energy she had. She could feel the weakness in her right side—especially her arm—and knew if she tried to smile, that side of her mouth wouldn’t lift high enough. Not that she had anything to smile about at the moment.

While Mavis Sanders couldn’t resist spreading rumors, all too often her news turned out to be mostly right. Perla felt confident there was at least some truth to this one, too. Attending church wasn’t important to people anymore. And although she liked him, she hadn’t seen anything from Richard yet that made her think he would turn things around. Perla kneaded her right hand, trying to ease the weak feeling. Maybe what the church needed was a threat to its very existence. Maybe losing the church would finally wake some folks up to how important faith was to their little community. Maybe it would even get the attention of her own family.

Perla smiled and didn’t worry about the right side of her mouth. Yes indeedy, sometimes a good dose of trouble was exactly what folks needed.