Family Stories. Tessa McDermid

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СКАЧАТЬ Sarah?”

      He frowned, trying to follow her lightning change of topic. “I’m not from around here.”

      “They’re in the Bible, silly, ” she said.

      He dug in the dim recesses of his mind. Church on Sundays had been a regular part of his growing-up years, walking the few blocks with his mother and two sisters. Their dad always stayed home to read his paper in peace and quiet.

      “An old couple who wanted a baby?” he ventured.

      She nodded. “My parents see themselves as Abraham and Sarah. They had decided it was God’s will that they never have children. And then, just like Abraham and Sarah, they found out I was on the way.”

      “They must’ve been very excited.”

      “They were. Mother was sick a lot but they were so happy, she didn’t care. She couldn’t go anywhere with my father, even to church. She sewed clothes for me, lovely clothes for this precious baby she was expecting.”

      Frank watched the changing expressions on her face. She spoke about babies and birth as if they were the most natural things in the world. Maybe she’s right, he thought, touched by her candor.

      “And here you are, ” he breathed when she stopped, vowing to start praying again. If God could create a vision like the one sitting next to him…

      “I almost wasn’t.”

      Frank caught her hand at that horrible possibility, staring at the sight of her delicate fingers against his much larger palm. She smiled at him and he was ensnared in the spell of her eyes. Sapphires, he told himself, even though he’d never seen the actual gems. Her eyes must look like sapphires. Bright blue rimmed with dark lashes.

      She tugged her fingers out of his tight hold and folded her hands in her lap. “My mother suffered complications just before I was born. She told the doctor and my father that if a choice had to be made between her and the baby, then the baby must live. Father argued with her but she wouldn’t listen. Finally, he gave in, hoping a miracle would happen.”

      “And a miracle did.” He felt his own faith rekindling at her simple story.

      “That’s what my parents believe. I still think it’s because my father can speak to God so easily, or maybe God finds it easier to understand a minister’s requests.”

      She laughed at his look of surprise, a throaty trill that spun cobwebs down his spine. “Oh, you mustn’t mind what I say. Really, I do believe in God but living with people who praise God whenever you walk into a room can be tiring.”

      She wrapped her arms around her bent knees and rested her head on her arms, her face turned away from him. A delicate pink ear was visible among the disorder of her curls and he clutched his hands in his lap. When a light breeze brought the fresh scent of her soap to him, he closed his eyes. Help me, God, he prayed for the first time in years. She’s too young, too innocent. She doesn’t know what her mere presence does to a man.

      He opened his eyes and saw her sitting up, watching him with a mixture of longing and worry.

      “You won’t go away, will you?”

      I’m going right now. I’m catching the next train and riding as far away from you as I can.

      But the words didn’t form on his lips. Looking into her eyes, he knew he couldn’t say them.

      “Your parents won’t let us meet, ” he said instead, both relief and regret in his tone.

      She rose gracefully to her feet and smoothed down her skirt. “Don’t worry about my parents. Come to church on Sunday and don’t be late.” She paused, studying his rumpled clothes. “Do you have another suit?”

      “Yes, ” he lied. Sunday. He had three days in which to buy another suit. If it cost every penny he’d just earned, he would arrive at the church in a new suit.

      “Good.” She started to walk away. “Then come to the church by 8:00 a.m. The white church, not the brick one.”

      She was almost gone. “Wait!” he shouted, running after her. “I don’t know your name.”

      “Marian, ” she called to him. “Marian Cooper.”

      “Marian, ” he whispered, walking back to the log. He took off his jacket and rolled it into a pillow. His stomach growled but he pushed his hunger aside. A small price to pay to see her again. He curled up against the suddenly cool summer breeze and whispered her name over and over.

      He spent the next three days knocking on doors in nearby towns. On Saturday he went back to the storekeeper whose wares he carried, received his pay, then asked about a suit. The old man was pleased with his profit and offered Frank a discount on a ready-made suit. He directed him to the tailor’s house on the outskirts of town and by nightfall, Frank owned another outfit.

      He slipped into an empty freight car and watched the stars through the open door. Sleep eluded him. One part of him hoped the feelings she’d aroused in him would be extinguished by the real presence of her, and another part wondered how he would live if she’d forgotten him or, worse, been toying with him.

      What if she had only been using him to while away a few summer hours? What if she snubbed him when he arrived at the church, her adorable little nose in the air as she walked haughtily past him? He groaned and punched his bag into a pillow of sorts. He stretched out his long form and, resting his head on the crumpled bag, willed himself to sleep.

      By the time the train pulled into the village of Winston, he was a bundle of nerves. Each time he’d drifted off, her face invaded his vision. He could see again the soft curve of her cheek, the gentle sweep of her lashes, the rosebud perfection of her lips. Clenching his teeth to stop another moan, he grabbed the small bag with a sweaty hand and swung himself down from the freight car. The train’s whistle sounded in his ears as it chugged down the tracks, leaving him alone in the dark countryside.

      He found an empty barn near the edge of town and crawled into a corner, his eyes heavy with exhaustion and his heart aching with worry. Stripping off his jacket and shoes, he lay down and closed his eyes, begging for at least a few hours’ sleep to release him from his anxiety.

      He was up with the dawn, only slightly rested from his hours in the barn. He gobbled down the sandwich he’d bought the day before and dressed carefully in the new suit. The tailor had assured him he looked extremely well-dressed; he hoped the little man was right. He dusted off his shoes with a handkerchief. Using a bit of broken glass he found in another corner of the barn for a reflection, he styled his hair carefully. Satisfied he looked his best, considering the facilities he had to use, he hid his bag under some dusty tools and headed down the road to town.

      Winston, Missouri, woke up early on a Sunday. He could smell Sunday dinners already cooking. Children sat on porch swings, their hair brushed and pulled back from scrubbed faces. Their feet swung in shiny dress shoes. They waved at him and he waved back, his mood lightened by their friendliness.

      As he neared the center of town, church bells rang out. People were filing into the brick church; remembering her directions, he joined the throng at the white frame church only a few steps from her home.

      He chose a pew in the middle of the right side. He bent his head, unable to look around now that he was finally there. СКАЧАТЬ