Family Lessons. Allie Pleiter

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СКАЧАТЬ just groaning toward heaven now. Still, God hears every groan. I like to think He hears the groans especially. Sugar?”

      “Thank you, yes.” The woman’s elegant fingers traced the china handle. “They are lovely teacups.”

      There, for just a moment, was the refined lady Holly had admired on the train. “They belonged to my Grannie Hollyn. I’m named after her. She loved pretty things like this.”

      Rebecca’s blue eyes looked straight into Holly’s. “You are so kind.”

      Holly’s conscience pinched at the way she’d envied Rebecca on the train. I’m not proud of that. Forgive my unkind spirit, Lord. I was so very wrong. “They’re dear children, the lot of them. They deserve a happy ending, and we’ll just have to find one in all this. Now finish your tea and let’s get you cleaned up. I expect you’ll fall asleep as fast as the rest of them.”

      Rebecca smiled and drank her tea, but Holly knew it was more likely that neither of them would sleep soundly. Tired as she was, too many things piled into her memory every time she closed her eyes. It would be hard for sleep to befriend her tonight.

      * * *

      An hour later, Grandpa’s clock on Holly’s mantel chimed ten as Holly slipped under the familiar coverlet and felt her body sink into the mattress. Every inch felt tied in knots; every joint seemed to groan. Dickens, her shy calico who’d stayed hidden under the bed during Rebecca’s visit as he always did on the rare occasion Holly had company, jumped up to curl against her side. “What a day, hmm, Dickens? Mama was right; one should never pray for excitement.”

      Dickens offered only a low purr in reply. Holly stroked the black and brown patches that covered his back, seeking solace in his large yellow eyes. “I’m safe,” she said to the both of them, aloud so she’d believe it. “I’m safe, thank heaven.”

      You’re safe. Those had been the words Mason Wright had said to her as he led her away from the spot where Stuart Arlington’s body lay bleeding into the Nebraska soil. She didn’t feel it yet—she mostly felt alone and lifeless. Help me, Lord, she prayed as she stroked the cat and waited for sleep to wipe the day from her bones. I want to trust You, but it’s hard to see how You’d want any of this. Rebecca and Mr. Arlington were trying to do right by those children. Those men were only out for greed. I know you still brought our funds to Evans Grove, and You brought them more quickly than we’d dared to hope, but this? Why such pain when we’ve already known so much loss?

      Her eyes grew heavy enough so that even the specter of Mr. Arlington’s lifeless eyes could not fight off their closing. “Now I lay me down to sleep,” she recited the childhood prayer, somehow needing the peace of her youth, “I pray the Lord my soul to keep.”

      She left off the final couplet. The Lord had taken enough souls today.

      * * *

      “You’re serious.” Reverend Turner looked shocked—but not unpleasantly so—when Holly knocked on his door far too early the next morning. She was unable to wait one minute longer to tell him of her idea.

      Holly pulled her shawl closer against the morning drizzle. “I shot up out of bed wide awake sometime near four. The whole thing came to me just that quick. Just that strong.”

      Poor Reverend. Holly had been dressed before dawn, had bolted out of the schoolhouse the minute Charlotte and Amelia Hicks had come to tend to the children’s breakfast. She’d barely been able to keep her idea from Rebecca, knowing Reverend Turner was the first person she must tell. Still, the children’s waking faces sealed her determination, as if the idea was doubling in size and strength every moment she delayed. She’d practically run through the fine morning rain to the Reverend’s house to knock down his door with her plan.

      Holly grabbed his arm. “Reverend Turner, I don’t see how that could be anything other than the work of the Spirit, don’t you?”

      He stifled a yawn. “It very well could be.”

      Holly reined in her exasperation. “Of course it can, Reverend. It must. These children could so easily stay here, find homes here among our families.”

      “It’s possible.”

      Reverend Turner’s wife, Mary, called from behind him. “For goodness’ sake, James, don’t make Holly stand in the doorway like some kind of stranger.” Mary affectionately nudged her husband out of the way to pull Holly into the warm room. “How are you, dear? Such a horrid episode. Curdles the blood to think what you all went through and those poor, poor children.”

      “Holly has had an idea about those young ones.” Reverend Turner shut the door and adjusted the suspenders he’d thrown on in a hurry. “She thinks they ought to stay.”

      “So I couldn’t help but hear.” Mary’s eyes narrowed as she turned the thought over in her mind. After what seemed like a decade, the minister’s wife looked up at her husband. “Why not?”

      “Well,” Reverend Turner said, tucking his hands in the suspenders he’d just adjusted, “there might be very complicated reasons why not. I’ve no idea how these things with such agencies work.”

      Holly knew better. The minute the idea pulled her head up from the pillow, she knew it was the right thing. Knew like she’d never known anything else. A truth even harder than fact, if such a thing were possible. “It won’t be complicated,” she asserted without any such facts to back it up whatsoever. “It’s the simplest thing, I’m sure of it. Miss Sterling said she’s been praying these children find a home, and Greenville was their last chance. They won’t need a last chance in Greenville if we give them homes here. Can’t you see? We’re the answer to those prayers.” Holly had to stop herself from grabbing the Reverend’s arm again and shaking it.

      Mary came up beside her husband. “James, didn’t you tell me just last night Evans Grove needed something to spark hope back into it?” The love of Mary’s twelve grandchildren—most of whom lived in Denver and Iowa now and only came in for holidays—played across the woman’s face. “What’s more hopeful than children?”

      “I’ve said prayers over far too many graves this past month,” the Reverend admitted as he turned from them to pace his front room floor with pastoral seriousness. Mrs. Turner laid an encouraging hand on Holly’s arm and smiled her agreement. Still, the Reverend pondered Holly’s proposition for what seemed like a century. Finally, he turned back to the women. “Well...” he said, eyes narrowed and face so unreadable it made Holly want to burst.

      “Well what?” Holly nearly yelled. She’d left her patience and good manners back in the teacherage. The moment she knocked on the Reverend’s door, some bit of her heart resolved she would not leave without his consent. This was to be and it was hers to make it so.

      “Well, I think I ought to thank God for answering my prayer through you. I don’t know if it can be arranged, but if God wills it, I think these children should find homes in Evans Grove.”

      “He does!” Holly proclaimed, grabbing the Reverend’s arm.

      “So quick to presume the Lord’s perfect intent, are you?” His words were scolding, but his eyes twinkled in amusement.

      “I believe He does,” Holly corrected. “Truly. I tell you I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” All the strain and sorrow of yesterday had evaporated in the brilliant light of this idea. It seemed СКАЧАТЬ