Kelly's Chance (8 page)

“I’m waitin’ for your answer,” Mama said, giving Kelly’s shoulder a gentle tap.

“I was kinda hoping to get rested up tomorrow. Maybe do a bit of drawin’.”

Mama’s squinted eyes and furrowed brow revealed her obvious concern. “You ain’t feelin’ poorly, too, I hope.”

Kelly shook her head. “Just tired is all.”

“And well you should be,” Mama agreed. “The last few days, you and your dad have been workin’ real hard trying to do all my chores plus keeping up with your own jobs as well.” She gave Kelly a hug. “I think you’re right. It might be good for us all to spend the day restin’.”

Kelly felt bad about not being willing to attend church with her mother. She could tell by Mama’s wistful expression that she really did miss Sunday services inside a church building. Reading the Bible every night after supper was a good thing, but it wasn’t the same as being in fellowship with other believers.

She and her mother went to wait for Mike by the wooden sales counter.

A few seconds later, Mike entered the store, carrying a large paper sack. He handed it to Kelly and grinned. “This should get you by for a while.”

She peered inside the bag. Several large clumps of charcoal, as well as some smaller ones, completely filled it. Mike was right. These would last a good while, and tonight she planned to start putting them to use. “Thanks,” she murmured.

He winked at her. “You’re more than welcome.”

Kelly cleared her throat, feeling kind of warm and jittery inside. Maybe she was coming down with whatever had been ailing her folks. A day of rest might do her more good than she realized.

***

Sunday morning dawned with a blue, cloudless sky. It would be the perfect day for Kelly to enjoy the warm sun and draw. She hurried through her breakfast and morning chores, anxious for some time alone. Mama would be tending to Papa’s needs for the next little while, and after that, she would probably take a rest herself.

Papa had taken to his bed last night and not even shown his face at the breakfast table. Kelly figured he must be pretty sick if he wasn’t interested in food, for her dad usually had a ravenous appetite. She had taken him a tray with a cup of tea and bowl of oatmeal a little while ago, but Papa turned his nose up at both and said he wanted to be left alone—needed some sleep, that was all.

It seemed strange for Kelly to see her dad, who was usually up early and raring to go, curled up in a fetal position with a patchwork quilt pulled up to his ears. His breathing sounded labored, and he wheezed and coughed like the steam train that ran beside the canal, despite the medicine Mama had been spoon-feeding him since their visit to Mike’s store last evening.

Thinking about Mike Cooper made Kelly remember their mules had been sleeping in his barn all night. She needed to feed and groom the animals, then take them outdoors for some fresh air and exercise. Wouldn’t do for the mules to get lazy because they’d stopped for a bit. As soon as she was finished tending the critters, Kelly hoped to finally have some free time.

As she headed for the barn, which sat directly behind Mike’s house, Kelly hummed her favorite song—“Hunksa-go Pudding.” Would Mama feel up to fixing a big meal today? Would it include a roast with some yummy hunks-a-go pudding? Kelly sure hoped so. It had been a good long while since she’d enjoyed the succulent taste of roast beef and hunksa-go pudding, where the batter was put in the fat left over from the meat and then fried in a pan on top of the stove.

Forcing thoughts of food to the back of her mind, Kelly opened the barn door and peered inside. Except for the gentle braying of the mules, all was quiet. The sweet smell of hay wafted up to her nose, and she sniffed deeply. She stepped inside and was almost to the stall where Hector and Herman were stabled when she heard another sound. Someone was singing.

“Sweet hour of prayer, sweet hour of prayer, that calls me from a world of care.”

Kelly plodded across the dirt floor, and the sound of the clear, masculine voice grew closer. She recognized it as belonging to Mike Cooper.

“And bids me at my Father’s throne, make all my wants and wishes known.”

Kelly halted, feeling like an intruder on Mike’s quiet time alone with God. He must be deeply religious, for not only was he kindhearted, but he sang praises to God. Whenever Kelly sang, it was some silly canaler’s song like “Hunks-a-go Pudding” or “You Rusty Canaler, You’ll Never Get Rich.” As a young child she would often sing “Jesus Loves Me,” but she’d been a lot happier back then. Sarah had still been living with them, helping share the burden of walking the mules and visiting with Kelly for hours on end. Papa expected twice as much from Kelly now that Sarah was gone. But was that any excuse to quit worshipping the Lord?

Kelly knew the answer deep in her soul. She was angry with God for not changing Papa’s heart. She was angry with Papa for being so stubborn and hot-tempered. And she was angry with Sarah for running off and leaving her to face Papa’s temper and do all the work.

I’ll show them. I’ll show everyone that Kelly McGregor doesn’t need anyone to get along in this world. I’m gonna make it on my own someday.

When Mike’s song ended, Kelly moved forward again. She could see him sitting on a small wooden stool, milking a fat brown and white cow.

She cleared her throat real loud to make her presence known and stepped into the stall where Herman and Hector had bedded down for the night.

“Good morning,” Mike called to her.

“Mornin’,” she responded.

“Looks like it’s gonna be a beautiful day.”

“Yep. Right nice.”

“What plans have you made for this Lord’s Day?” he asked.

Kelly patted Herman’s flank and leaned into the sturdy mule. “As soon as I get these two ready, I plan to take ’em outside for some exercise and fresh air.”

Mike didn’t say anything in reply, and Kelly could hear the steady
plunk, plink, plunk,
as the cow’s milk dropped into the bucket. It was a soothing sound, and she found herself wishing she had a real, honest-to-goodness home with a barn, chicken coop, and maybe a bit of land. Nine months out of the year, her home was the inside of a canal boat, and during the winter, it was a cramped, dingy flat at a boardinghouse in Easton. Papa seemed to like their vagabond life, but Kelly hated it—more and more the older she got. Someday she hoped to leave it all behind. Oh, for the chance to fulfill her dreams.

***

Mike grabbed the bucket of milk and headed for the stall where Kelly’s mules had been stabled. He was finally being given the chance to spend a few minutes alone with Kelly, and he aimed to take full advantage. If things went as he hoped, he would have the pleasure of her company for several hours today.

Mike leaned against the wooden beam outside the mules’ stall and watched Kelly as she fed and groomed her beasts of burden. She wasn’t wearing her usual straw hat this morning, and her lustrous brown hair hung down her back in long, loose waves. His fingers itched to reach out and touch those silky tresses.

“You’re good with the mules,” he murmured.

Kelly jumped, apparently startled and unaware that he’d been watching her. “Hector and Herman are easy to work with.”

Mike drew in a deep breath.
May as well get this over with.
“I ... uh ... was wondering if you’d like to go on a picnic with me later today.”

Kelly turned her head to look directly at him, and she blinked a couple of times. “A picnic? You and me?”

He nodded, then chuckled. “That’s what I had in mind.”

“Well, I was plannin’ to spend some time drawin’, and—”

“No reason you can’t draw after we share our picnic lunch.”

She hesitated a few seconds. “Mama may need my help with somethin’, and my folks might not approve of me goin’ on a picnic.”

Mike smiled. At least she hadn’t said no. He took that as a good sign. “While you finish up with the mules, how about I go talk to your parents?”

Kelly’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”

“If they say it’s all right, would you be willing to eat a picnic lunch with me?”

She nodded. Mike grinned. “Great! I’ll take this milk into the house, get cleaned up a bit, and run down to the boat to speak with your folks.”

“Papa’s still in bed,” Kelly said. “He ain’t feelin’ much better today than he was last night.”

“Sorry to hear it. I’ll ask your mother.” Mike hurried out of the barn, and he hummed “Sweet Hour of Prayer” all the way. God was already answering his prayer for the day, and he felt like he was ten feet tall.

***

Kelly couldn’t believe her mother had actually given permission for Mike Cooper to take her on a picnic. Maybe she felt bad because Kelly worked so hard and rarely got a day off. Or it might be that Mama needed some quiet time herself today, so she thought it would be good if Kelly were gone awhile.

The idea of a picnic did seem kind of nice. It would be a chance for Kelly to relax and enjoy Mike’s company, as well as the good food he’d promised to prepare. On the other hand, spending time alone with the fine-looking storekeeper might not be such a good thing. What if he got the notion she was interested in him? Would Mike expect her to do more things with him when she was in the area? In some ways, she hoped they could. Life along the canal was lonely, especially when her only companions were a pair of mules.

Kelly stood in her tiny room and studied her reflection in the mirror that she kept in the trunk at the foot of her bed. Did she look presentable enough to accompany Mike Cooper on a picnic? Mike always smelled so clean, and he wore crisp trousers and shirts without holes or wrinkles. It was hard to believe he had no mother or wife caring for his needs. He must be very capable, she decided.

Mike had said he would meet Kelly in front of his store a little before noon. This gave her plenty of time to get ready, and she’d even taken a bath in the galvanized tub and washed her hair, using that new floating soap Mama liked so well.

Kelly grabbed a lock of hair, swung it over her shoulder, and sniffed deeply. “Smells clean enough to me.” She glanced down at her dark green skirt and long-sleeved white blouse with puffy sleeves. Both were plain and unfashionable, but Kelly didn’t care a hoot about fashion, only comfort and looking presentable enough to be seen in public. Her clothes were clean; Mama had washed them yesterday. At least today she wasn’t likely to offend Mike by smelling like one of her mules.

Kelly took out her drawing tablet and a piece of charcoal and stuffed them in her oversized skirt pocket. Then she grabbed her straw hat and one of Mama’s old quilts. At least they would have something soft to sit on during their picnic lunch. She left the room and tiptoed quietly past her parents’ bedroom. It wouldn’t be good to wake Papa. He’d probably be furious if he knew she was taking the day off to go on a picnic—especially with a man. He might think she was going to up and run off the way Sarah had. Well, that would never happen!

As Kelly stepped off the boat, she caught a glimpse of Reverend Nelson and his daughter, Betsy. They were standing in front of Mike’s store, and several boatmen and their families had gathered around.

It made no sense to Kelly. Shouldn’t the preacher have been at his church, pounding the wooden pulpit and shouting at the congregation to repent and turn from their wicked ways? Instead, he was leading the group of people in song, and his daughter was playing along with her zither.

Kelly hoped to avoid the throng entirely, but Mike, who stood on the fringes, motioned her to join him. He was holding a wicker basket, and Kelly figured he was probably ready to head out on their picnic. If she hung back until the church service was over, they would lose some of their time together.

Mike crooked his finger at Kelly again, and she inched her way forward.
Guess I may as well see what he’s plannin’ to do.

***

Mike smiled at Kelly when she stepped up beside him.

“What’s goin’ on?” she whispered.

“Reverend Nelson finished his worship service early today, so he and Betsy decided to bring a bit of revival to the boatmen and their families who stayed in the area for the night.”

“Do you attend their church in town?” Kelly asked.

Mike shrugged his shoulders. “Sometimes.” The truth was, he used to go every Sunday, but here of late he’d been feeling mighty uncomfortable around Betsy Nelson. He’d stayed home the last couple weeks, praying and reading his Bible in solitude. He knew he shouldn’t be using Betsy’s overbearing, flirtatious ways as an excuse to stay away from church, but it was getting harder to deal with her. Especially since Kelly McGregor had come into his life.

He stared down at Kelly, small and delicate, yet strong and reliable. Where did she stand as far as spiritual things were concerned? He needed to find out soon, before he lost his heart to the beautiful young woman.

“Ready to head out on our picnic?” Kelly questioned.

Now was as good a time as any to see how interested she was in church.

“I thought maybe we’d stick around until Reverend Nelson is done preaching,” Mike said. “It’s been awhile since I’ve heard a good sermon.” He studied Kelly’s face to gauge her reaction. She looked a bit hesitant, but agreeably she nodded. He breathed a sigh of relief.

“Should we take a seat on the grass?” he asked, motioning to a spot a few feet away.

She followed him there and spread out the quilt she’d been holding so tightly.

Mike set the picnic basket down, and they both took a seat on the blanket. Leaning back on his elbows, Mike joined the group singing “Amazing Grace.” His spirits soared as the music washed over him like gentle waves lapping against the shore. He loved to sing praises to God, and when the mood hit, he enjoyed blowing on the old mouth harp that had belonged to Grandpa Cooper.

He glanced over at Kelly. She wasn’t singing, but her eyes were closed, and her face was lifted toward the sun.
She must be praying. That’s a good indication that she knows the Lord personally.