Julia's Hope (20 page)

“Well,” she said slowly. “If it stays mine, I won’t have nobody budge me from it again, not for nothin’ but church, no matter how sick I get. I didn’t come back here just to leave again.”

“I guess I can understand that,” I told her. “At least a little. I just wish you were closer to town.”

“Don’t bother me if I never see Doctor Howell no more. He ain’t helped me none, far as I can see.”

“Well, it bothers me a lot.”

“Gettin’ sick, gettin’ old—them things is part a’ life. I don’t want you bein’ scared of it none. Wouldn’t make no difference where I was, that’d all go the same. But this is home, Sam. And I want you all here too. I’ll pay you—”

“No, you won’t pay me. That wouldn’t be right.”

She shook her head. “I was ’dreamin’ yesterday ’bout your kids, that they was mine—grandkids, I mean. And I ain’t never had a pleasanter thought. I’d like to claim ’em so, if I could. You’re fine folks, good as family. Better, seems to me.”

“You don’t even know us that well,” I protested.

“Well enough. Look at yourself, Samuel Wortham. You won’t take m’ house, bad as you need it, ’cause you just gotta do what’s right. You’re decent. And I’d be proud if you was m’ own son.”

The words shook me so deeply that I almost stood up, just to get away from her.
Proud? If I was her son? My own
mother had never said anything like that.

She took hold of my arm and gave it a gentle pat. “What’s botherin’ ya, Samuel? You just can’t see clear to stay here with a sick old lady?”

“I can’t see how I could have gained half the respect you’re showing me, Mrs. Graham. I haven’t earned it.”

“You did. You love the Lord, don’t you?”

“I try.”

“If you won’t take no paper while I’m livin’, would you let me set it up that way for you once I’m gone?”

“I wish you wouldn’t. Not yet. Not till you’re good and sure. And you’ve talked to your family.”

“You’re a hard’un to bless sometimes, Samuel.”

I shook my head. “You’ve done a fine enough job already, Emma.”

“Will you stay?”

I felt like somebody had grabbed my stomach and squeezed it tight as a fist. I felt so inadequate, but what else could I do? Take us back to nothing? And let Emma down at the same time?

“I guess I’d better stay,” I told her. “If you’re real sure about this. But I don’t know what I’m doing half the time. And it bothers me what people are going to say. Us keeping you out here away from your doctor and your friends. And using what’s yours.”

“You let ’em talk if they will. It ain’t your job to handle ’em. But I sure will, if I catch wind a’ any of that. You just watch if I don’t.”

She reached for her cane, and I looked at her in surprise. Seemed like she could whack somebody over the head without thinking twice.

“Best be gettin’ them youngsters ’round,” she admonished me. “We gotta be ready ’fore Charlie gets here. Can’t have him thinkin’ we don’t care ’nough for church to have ourselves fixed up in time.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I stood up.

“Gonna be so good to be back there! You’ll like it, you’ll see.” She smiled at me with the prettiest smile I’d seen out of her yet. I’d blessed her by being nothing more than willing to stay. And now I’d gone and promised her. What a way life can be sometimes.

Julia came in the house with the leaves from something she called borage to make up a tea for Emma. She poured the morning’s milk over the rest of Louise Post’s corn bread for our breakfast and made sure Emma drank all her tea, saying it would do her good. And Emma didn’t argue, though she clearly didn’t like it as well as the root coffee.

Soon Julia was washing out the pans, and before long she was singing. I guess I’d made her happy too, telling her we’d stay.

I took the time to fill a bucket and wash myself up good. I figured for Emma’s sake I shouldn’t smell too bad. Robert was moping and came up to me while I was buttoning my shirt.

“Dad, can’t you and me stay home?”

“Nope. Not this time,” I told him. “Everybody goes.”

He sat in silence and watched me tie my tie. It was the only one we’d saved, and it was wrinkled again, despite Julia’s ironing. “You might like Emma’s church,” I suggested. “She sure does.”

“That’s ’cause she’s old. That’s different.”

“I think it’s because it’s been her church since she was a child.”

“Well, see, Dad,” Robert exclaimed. “That ain’t the case with me.”

“You could like it anyway.”

“Will you?”

“Well, I’m going to give it an honest effort. And that’s all I’m asking from you. Fair enough?”

“Will we have to go every Sunday?”

“I haven’t decided.”

Robert wiggled in his chair and scrunched up his face at me, so I told him to go comb his hair. As he left the room, Sarah came in, looking like a princess in her white stockings and big white hair bow. I wished I could manage to get her some nicer shoes. Hers were scuffed at the toes and soon to be too small.

In no time, Charlie Hunter rolled up the weedy drive in his Chevrolet. Emma started out the door without any help, and by the time I reached her, she was balanced on a porch step.

It was a fine ride to Dearing. Charlie Hunter drove faster than anybody else we’d ridden with. Julia put a scarf over her head and made a feeble attempt at holding Sarah’s hair in place. Emma started singing hymns in a voice so rich that it was hard to picture her driven to bed last night by pain, or myself so close to leaving.

Not until we stopped in front of the church did I feel the tension rising up in me again. People were getting out of cars all around us, and more people were walking over from nearby houses. A farm wagon with a gray mare stood under a tree, and three little boys came sauntering up on the back of a mule. More boys were running around in the churchyard while three or four little girls about Robert’s size huddled together in giggles beside a hawthorn bush. Some of the men were in overalls, some in suits, but all the women were dressed just as fine as they could manage. An old man with a long white beard was the first to recognize Emma, and when he called out her name, a half dozen of the ladies headed in our direction.

I began to look about nervously, expecting Hazel Sharpe to come puffing up to us at any moment. Emma immediately understood my worry.

“Miss Hazel’d be inside already,” she told me. “She’s always early.”

When all the introductions and hugging were done, we proceeded toward the church steps. Charlie Hunter and I carried Emma up just as carefully as we could, and once she was inside she pointed a seat out to us.

“Same place,” Charlie told me. “She always did want to sit in the same place.”

“It was m’ mama’s seat,” she explained. “The very place I was sittin’ when the gospel come alive.”

My family trailed into the pew beside her, and I noticed for the first time that all eyes were turned our way. Outside, the air had been full of friendly greetings for Emma, but now the scrutiny had begun. I wished that they’d commence with the service and then hurry it along so we could get home. But to my dismay, I realized that we were early.

Julia looked up at me and then reached over and squeezed my hand. I knew that meant she’d seen trouble coming. And sure enough, Hazel Sharpe was standing beneath a window, pointing us out to a grizzled old man and his prim-faced wife.

Emma had seen them too, and gave them a merry wave. At that moment I found a lot to respect in an old lady set on enjoying life, no matter what. And I remembered what she’d told me, that it was no concern of mine what people thought or what they said. So I turned my attention from the window to consider the simple cross at the front of the church and the nervous-looking young man who stood beneath it.

I could hear Miss Sharpe’s snipping voice coming closer, but the nervous man was coming closer too, walking in our direction with his eyes on Emma. The two got to us right at the same time, and Hazel held her tongue just long enough for the man to introduce himself as Paxton Jones, the new pastor.

“Well,” Miss Hazel said to us then, “I’m glad you could manage to come out this morning. Honestly, I wasn’t expectin’ you.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Emma beamed.

The pastor spoke up. “It’s so nice to meet you—”

“Emma, land sakes, we coulda brung you to church from Belle Rive if you’d have just said something,” Hazel interrupted. “You didn’t have to endanger yourself—”

“Posh,” Emma said, shaking the pastor’s hand. “I’ve been lookin’ forward to hearin’ you, Pastor Jones. Been itchin’ for it for days.”

“I certainly hope I don’t disappoint,” the pastor replied timidly, with a sideways glance in Hazel’s direction.

Hazel spoke up again. “I’m gonna have to have a word—”

“Joy of the Lord is your strength,” Emma exhorted the pastor. “You let his fire wrap ’round your bones and don’t let nothin’ nor nobody stand in your way.” She turned her eyes to Hazel and took the woman’s hand. “Ain’t it grand how we’re all just a family for blessin’ one another! Why don’t you bless me, Hazel, dear, by fetchin’ me a glass a’ water?”

“You could send that lad there side you,” Hazel snapped. “I ain’t done—”

“You know he ain’t never been here afore,” Emma insisted. “Ya don’t put a guest to errands, even if he knows where the water’s kep’, which he don’t.”

“Well, I declare if you ain’t become just the same as rude, Emma Graham,” Hazel huffed. “And you knowin’ I had somethin’ to say.”

“I’ll be glad to speak with you right after the service,” Emma assured her, but Hazel had already tromped away.

“You’ll hafta forgive me,” Emma told the pastor. “I’m old and I ain’t got the time for no tongue-wallerin’ ways. God love her, though, and I surely mean that.”

The pastor smiled shyly. “I heard you were a blessed lady, Mrs. Graham,” he said in a quiet voice. “You’ve blessed me already.”

After awhile, a teenage girl in yellow ruffles brought Emma’s water, and I could see Hazel over by the wall, talking to somebody else. Her frown was so big I couldn’t help but wonder if anyone else noticed the picture of the smiling Jesus behind her.
Strange place for her to park herself,
I thought.
Like an angry sentinel, standing in the way.

But I knew I shouldn’t think such thoughts. Emma had said “God love her,” and Julia didn’t seem bothered by her either. My wife had engaged herself in pleasant conversation with a poofy-haired woman who sat in the pew in front of us. Before long, Julia would be making friends. She’d probably already decided she liked this church.

I looked around at the people again. Some looked friendly enough, though others I wouldn’t have dared to approach any more than I would Hazel. Most of the people eventually got around to greeting us, whether friendly or frowning. And I found I could tell the difference by a handshake too, between those distrusting and those willing to give me the benefit of the doubt.

Emma was clearly enjoying all the attention, and Julia was having a good enough time too. The kids were sitting up proper enough to make me proud, saying hello when it was required of them and patiently waiting for something else to happen.

But I was ready to get out. I was embarrassed to answer the same old questions. To Emma they’d all say, “You mean, you’re back
home?
And they’re
staying
with you?” Then they’d turn to me and ask if I worked. Finding a dirt hole to slide into would have been a mercy.

Sarah and Robert were soon ushered into a Sunday school class, and all the adults sat in their seats and listened to Hazel’s prim-faced friend drone on about holiness. I was sure I wasn’t the only one relieved when Sunday school concluded with the sound of a bell.

Then Hazel tromped up to the piano. I wanted to hate her playing, but it sounded pretty good, even though I’d never heard the hymn before. We were all expected to sing anyway, three hymns in all, from the books that had been left on the pews.

The church was hot by the time the preacher started, and I felt sorry for the poor man, sweating and nervous as he was. But he did a passable job and had a pretty way of praying, and the service turned out to be fairly good, all in all.

Mrs. Jones invited us to dinner, but we had to turn her down since we were already committed to be at the Posts. She and Julia talked a long time and were soon laughing away.
It’s started already,
I thought.
She’s gone and got herself
a friend here. Now no matter what happens, even if Emma dies,
she won’t be wanting to leave. God, what a peculiar way you
work things sometimes.

Since Emma and Julia were still talking and looked like they could be at it awhile, I let Robert and Sarah play outside with some of the kids they’d met. They liked it here too. I was the only stick-in-the-mud, thinking I’d just as soon be back in Harrisburg.

Lord, what’s the matter with me anyway? I see my family
happy, know what all you’ve done for us, but I still stand here
thinking thoughts about going backward. Or forward. Harrisburg.
Or Mt. Vernon. When really, right here hasn’t been so terrible. Maybe you planted us, like Emma said. So why am I wiggling
around, resisting setting in roots? Why can’t I be more like
Julia or the kids, and set myself to enjoying life, money in my
pockets or not?

We were all outside again when the grizzle-faced man that Hazel’d been talking to came up to me and stood with his hands in his pockets, looking me over before he said a word.

“How do you do?” I offered, trying to begin the conversation on a pleasant note.

“Come from Pennsylvania, huh?”

“Yes, sir.” I sighed, pretty sure I could guess what was coming.

“We–ll,” he said, “we don’t know how y’ come to figure this was the place for you, but we’ll be watching, you can count on that. Sister Emma, she’s dear to us, and I sure wouldn’t lift no finger to be hurtin’ her feelin’s, you know, but that don’t mean we can just look t’ other way ’bout you crowdin’ in, takin’ her place—”

“I haven’t—”

“Now you just let me talk!” The old man straightened his posture, and his mustache quivered when he spoke. “They don’t teach you no manners where you come from, do they? Pity them kids a’ yours, if they don’t grow up no better!”