Thirty-Four
Marianne soon adjusted to life with Stella and Joseph, though it took a while to become accustomed to their relentless bickering. She awoke her first morning in Nevada to hear them arguing about who forgot to bring in the laundry the night before. They argued about how long the drought would last, who did more chores, and the right way to boil water. In time, Marianne realized they enjoyed jousting with each other. It wasn’t the sort of humor she appreciated, but that didn’t make it wrong. Stella and Joseph were both tough, demanding, and forthright people, but they were also honest. They set high standards and demanded Marianne meet them, working days at the silver mine and weekends at the church.
A week passed, then a month.
On Sunday mornings Joseph led a congregation of ninety people in worship. The church was a plain building of well-hewn planks, clear glass windows, and a simple altar. All of it had been built by Joseph’s own two hands. The bell tower was still under construction but would soon feature a set of stairs, a belfry, and a spire.
And then Stella and Joseph would move on to plant a new church somewhere else. That sort of itinerant life seemed exhausting to Marianne, but it suited Stella and Joseph. As soon as a church was established, they pulled up stakes and moved on.
Joseph’s style of leadership was plain and straightforward. He preached that problems, no matter how complex, could be boiled down to the fallen nature of man, and the best way to solve them was by turning to simple wisdom in the Gospels. How would Jesus handle betrayal, secrets, and avarice? The virtues of love, humility, charity, and forgiveness might not solve the problem, but they could serve as a balm in an imperfect world.
Maybe it was the distance from Washington, but Marianne’s complicated family histrionics no longer seemed quite so unique. Backstabbing, secrets, and lies dated all the way back to biblical times, and the same book provided plenty of guideposts for how she could have handled things better.
She still longed for a perfect family, but it didn’t hurt so much anymore. She was both fallen and forgiven. Her mission now was to learn how to navigate the world in a way that extended forgiveness to other fallen people in her life.
On her fourth Sunday, while helping set up the refreshment table for fellowship after church, Marianne had the oddest experience. Like always, she helped lug the table outside, cover it with a cloth, then placed a rock on each corner to secure the tablecloth from the relentless winds coming off the mountain. Parishioners brought fruit and cookies, simple food that would take the edge off hunger so everyone could relax and socialize following the service. There were no gourmet foods or amethyst saltcellars here, only humble fare where fellowship was more important than impressing others.
Marianne stepped back a few paces to watch an elderly couple approach the table and set a can of peaches alongside the stack of tin plates. A couple of children picked dandelions to fill a cup for table decoration. Marianne considered rushing for her camera to immortalize this perfect moment in the country churchyard.
Then she thought better of it. Sometimes it was better to live in the present. A breeze caressed her cheek, almost as though it approved of her decision. She leaned into it, accepting it, even as the tablecloth lifted and rippled in the wind, tossing over a plate of cookies. One of the women laughed and found a few more rocks to anchor the cloth.
A sense of well-being descended. This was how life was supposed to be. Not perfect, but lovely all the same. It was a peaceable kingdom, a community of believers, and they had welcomed her with open arms. Luke had once spoken of the comfort that sometimes came out of nowhere, and he credited it to the Holy Spirit of God reaching out to encourage the awakening inside. Was that what this was? The scales were falling from her eyes, and she was seeing the world as it really was, not as she wished it could be.
Perhaps she was finally growing up. Paradise on earth didn’t exist, but God still blessed them with the tools they needed to be happy, even in a sometimes imperfect, fallen world.
The sun hadn’t yet risen above the horizon, and Marianne was still bleary-eyed as she and Joseph walked alongside the wagon loaded with rough-sawn lumber. She helped Joseph with carpentry work every Saturday. He’d already taught her how to use a hand plane to smooth the boards to make risers on the bell tower stairs, and perhaps they could finish them today.
Joseph unharnessed the horse while Marianne unloaded the boards, stacking them outside the front of the church. It was probably still too dark inside the church to start work, but she’d get the supplies ready.
It was the blue hour. The sun hadn’t risen above the horizon yet, and the faint, shadowless light gave the desert an unearthly beauty. She’d always loved the blue hour, and her heart ached with the memory of when she and Luke took pictures during that magical in-between time at the navy shipyard. Her forty days with Joseph and Stella were drawing to a close, and she’d still heard nothing from Luke. If he didn’t contact her soon, she’d have to press on to San Francisco and hope he’d find her there.
She was carrying a box of tools into the church, heading down the center aisle toward the half-finished doorway that led to the church tower, when she stopped. A grubby man lay on one of the pews, his filthy boots hanging over the end. A battered hat covered his face, muffling a snore. Her gasp echoed in the still-dark church, but the vagrant didn’t stir.
She raced outside and straight to Uncle Joseph, who was still tending the horse. “There’s a hobo sleeping in the church!”
Joseph didn’t seem alarmed. “That’s why I never put a lock on the door of any church I build. A church should be open to wandering souls.”
Marianne’s heart still pounded from the unexpected fright. For a worldly man, Joseph could be terribly naïve. “He could have robbed you blind last night.”
Joseph gave her a condescending look as he finished tying the horse to the hitching post, then calmly headed inside. She followed at a cautious distance, clutching the toolbox to her chest. She had a hammer to defend herself, if need be.
“Good morning, son,” Joseph boomed in a hearty voice as he strode down the aisle without fear.
The vagrant roused, peeling up from the hard pew and rubbing the small of his back with a groan. His dark head turned, and he flashed them a devilish smile.
“Luke!”
She could hardly believe it. He looked like a tramp, with his disheveled hair and clothes. He could use a shave, but oh, that smile was the same, and an explosion of joy blossomed inside her.
“You came for me,” she said, her voice weak with relief.
“Of course I came,” Luke said, standing to hold his arms wide.
She dropped the toolbox and raced into them. He held her close, and it felt like coming home. This was where she belonged. No words were necessary as she clung to him and he gently rocked her from side to side.
She pulled back for a kiss, but to her surprise, Luke disentangled himself and walked down the aisle to greet her uncle. “Are you Joseph Greenleaf?”
“I am.”
Luke’s grin was hearty. “I went to the church you built in Amarillo. What a place! They welcomed me with open arms but said you’d long gone and pointed me to your next church in Santa Fe.”
Joseph’s smile turned skeptical. “Were those folks decent to you? Some of them got a little squirrelly after I left.”
“No fear of that,” Luke said. “They couldn’t have been nicer and had only fine things to say about you and your wife. They gave me your current location here in Carson City, but I was curious about what else you’ve built, so I stopped to see your churches in Grand Junction and Flagstaff on my way here. Well done, sir!”
Joseph laughed and returned Luke’s handshake with vigor. The two men seemed like instant best friends as they swapped stories about the crazy people at the Santa Fe congregation. Joseph wanted to know if the Flagstaff roof was holding up and if Mrs. Mulroney made Luke one of her famous rhubarb pies. How easily they laughed and traded quips. Luke showered Joseph with praise for the craftsmanship he saw in each church and the fine people he met along the way.
Marianne fidgeted. “I’m beginning to feel a little left out.”
Luke’s rich, irreverent laugh rumbled. “We can’t have that!” he said, drawing her into his arms and kissing her deeply. He bent her over his arm, and his hands were everywhere.
She hoped Luke wouldn’t drop her as she tore her mouth away to risk a glance at Joseph. “My uncle is very strict,” she cautioned.
Joseph rolled his eyes. “You two go out in the east field. I’ve got no interest in watching you spooning with your Romeo, and he’s proven himself a decent man. Plus, I’ll be able to keep my eye on you the whole time.”
Luke grabbed her hand. “Let’s go.”
They ran down the aisle and outside to the yarrow field. The sun was rising, birdsong sounded in the distance, and Luke’s embrace had never been more passionate.
“I can’t believe you found me,” she said breathlessly between his frantic kisses.
“I’d have searched to the ends of the earth.”
His lips trailed up the side of her jaw and behind her ear, and she squeezed him tight, still amazed that he was here and cared enough to come for her. She hadn’t broken her word to her father. Luke sought her out, not the other way around.
“Why did you run away?” he asked.
There were a million reasons, but the main one was that she couldn’t bear knowing he might languish in prison for months or years because of her.
“I cut a deal with my father,” she said, still clasped in his arms. “I promised I would leave Washington and not contact you. I figured a good spy like you would find me eventually.”
“You know who else is a good spy?”
She shook her head.
He didn’t take his eyes off her, gazing down with love and affection blazing in his warm face. “Your uncle. He’s been watching us from the top of that half-finished bell tower since we got out here.”
She didn’t care. She was proud of Luke and wanted no more secrets, no more hiding or waiting. She tightened her arms around his back and squeezed. “There are no more barriers between us.”
“Good. I fully intend to marry you. If you’ll have me, that is.”
Was there any doubt? Luke was the beginning, middle, and end of all her girlhood dreams. “Uncle Joseph could marry us. Then we can get on a train and be in San Francisco in a few hours. It will be like we both imagined.”
“We could,” he said, but there was a note of hesitation in his voice.
She pulled back a few inches. His smile was gone as he cupped the side of her face.
“I take it back,” he said, his expression serious. “We can’t run away, Marianne. We need to go back to Washington and ask your father’s permission to marry.”
“What?” she screeched. A squirrel startled, scrambling for cover as her shout echoed off the mountainside. “He’ll never agree. Never!”
The idea of Luke walking up to her father, hat in hand, and obediently asking for her hand in marriage was absurd.
As if he sensed her confusion, he rubbed his hands up and down her arms, squeezing gently. “Despite my long and colorful history of breaking the rules, I’m trying to be a better man. A better Christian. And one of the few direct commands ordained by God is to honor your mother and your father. It’s right there as the fifth commandment. There’s no other way to read that one. I wish there was.”
She drifted a few steps away to plop down on a boulder. “In that case, we’ll never get married. It will never happen.”
Luke hunkered down beside her and reached for her hand. “We have to at least ask,” he said passionately. “The commandment doesn’t order us to mindlessly obey your parents, it orders us to honor them. Which means no running away to San Francisco or getting married behind their backs. We will give them the respect they are owed.” He swallowed hard, as if bracing for the battle ahead. “That means I’m going to approach Clyde in a civil manner and humbly ask permission to join his family. He may call down fire and brimstone on my head. The last time we saw each other, he punched me in the face and threw me off his property, but I’ll do my best to forge a truce.”
Her gaze trailed into the distance, seeing nothing but problems ahead. She had already consigned herself to walking away from her family and living like Aunt Stella with a new family created from scratch. After all, it would be Clyde, not she, who made it impossible to remain in the family.
But she was the one who bought the ticket out west. She was the one who ran away rather than confront the challenging tangle of family drama at home. The fact that she doubted they could have made much progress was no excuse for not giving her parents the opportunity. Even now, she was certain Luke was heading straight toward a buzz saw in asking Clyde’s permission, but Luke was right.
As was Uncle Joseph, who preached that a life guided by the Christian virtues of love, humility, charity, and forgiveness would be more successful than her intemperate actions of the past. They needed to make this final overture to her parents, even though Marianne feared it was going to be hopeless.