Sister's Choice (25 page)

Mr. Newcomb, Zack, and Georgie were dressed in work clothes—they had cleaned up after their day’s work, certainly, but they were still garbed in dungarees, coarse cotton shirts, and scuffed boots. Mr. Newcomb had on wide suspenders, and Zack wore a well-worn brown wool vest over his shirt. Evan suddenly felt like an undertaker next to them.

He silently vowed that he would forthwith buy some farm clothes. He would have done so before now, but since he was not making an income, he hated having to ask his parents for more than what they were already providing him—a roof and food. They were more patient with him than he deserved. They had spent a great deal on his schooling, which now appeared he might waste by eschewing the vocation he had trained for. He’d given his father at least some hope by taking the Donnelly case, but honor had propelled him to insist that Mrs. Donnelly pay him only for a successful outcome.

He said a silent prayer of thanks that the Newcombs were the kind of folks who did not judge people on appearances. They welcomed him warmly, though Georgie did stare a bit until his mother scolded him.

“Georgie, mind your manners,” she said. “You’d think you’d never seen a decently dressed man.” She smiled at Evan. “Let me take your hat and overcoat.”

Georgie said, “Evan, you don’t suppose I could try on that nifty hat of yours? Why, I bet the girls would like me fine if I wore the like.”

“You are welcome to, Georgie.” Evan didn’t add that it had never helped him much with women, but perhaps it wasn’t the hat’s fault.

With thanks, Georgie took the hat upstairs where there was no doubt a mirror.

“Come on in and sit down,” Mr. Newcomb said. He and Zack were seated on chairs in front of the big hearth.

“Supper will be a few more minutes,” Mrs. Newcomb said and went into the kitchen.

He took a seat in a straight-backed chair that faced the kitchen as well as the other chairs. Ellie, Mrs. Spooner, and Mrs. Newcomb were busily making the last-minute preparations for the meal. Maggie was slicing bread, but she looked over at Evan and smiled. Immediately he felt heat rise beneath his collar. Embarrassed, he looked away. But that left him looking at Zack and Mr. Newcomb, and he could only wonder if they had noticed the red splotches on his neck.

“So, Evan,” Zack said, “Maggie told me you are making some headway in Tommy’s case. That’s good to hear.”

“Yes, we are moving in an encouraging direction,” Evan replied, “but I am surprised how few folks are willing or able to speak on Tommy’s behalf.”

“You’ve got to understand,” Mr. Newcomb said, “Tommy had fallen into many of his father’s bad habits and thus did little to endear himself to his neighbors—”

From the kitchen Maggie interjected, “They just assumed he was like his father! No one ever took the time to get to know what he was really like.”

“That may be,” Mr. Newcomb replied patiently, “but it is based somewhat on facts. I myself often saw Tommy overcome by strong spirits. I have heard from others how they had to chase him off their property in the midst of stealing produce and such shenanigans. Arliss Briggs says he is almost certain both Donnelly men attempted to rustle some of his stock. That is pure hearsay, the legal term, I believe, but such stories have nonetheless shaped how folks feel about them.”

“I have heard similar stories as I’ve gone around talking to folks hereabouts,” Evan said.

“But he has a good heart,” put in Zack. “I have talked to him often and can say that without a doubt. The thievery and few acts of vandalism were purely youthful mistakes, done only to find acceptance from his father.”

Evan replied, “Someone—I won’t mention names—said that Tommy once cut down a fence out of spite because the owner had made some unkind remarks about him.”

“So he deserved it!” piped up Maggie.

“We are to do unto others as we would
have
them do unto us,” Mrs. Newcomb said. “Not as they
do
unto us!”

“Your mother is quite right,” said Evan, happy to have been given an opportunity to agree with Mrs. Newcomb. “Neither is it a viable defense in a court of law. For instance, you might say Tom Donnelly deserved to be killed for the awful things he did, but that doesn’t give anyone a right to kill him.”

“Then Tommy is doomed,” Maggie said miserably.

“Unless we can prove self-defense,” said Evan. “And I will build this case by showing Tom’s past actions gave cause for Tommy to fear for his life.”

“Would Hal Fergus’s testimony about the beating be enough?” asked Zack.

“I need more than one witness to the man’s violence.”

“Maggie said you were hoping that Mrs. Newcomb and I would help in this,” Mr. Newcomb said.

“You are probably closer to the Donnellys than anyone.”

“Tom Donnelly was careful about his attacks on his son,”

Mr. Newcomb said regretfully. “I expect he didn’t want to be shunned entirely by his neighbors. Most folks might believe in the rod as discipline for their children, but even the harshest disciplinarian would find it hard to abide the kind of beatings I’ve heard Tom gave his son. Tom had to do business around here, so he probably tried to put up some cover of decency, thin as it was.”

Evan hadn’t planned to take up this unpleasant topic before supper, as he didn’t want to cast a dark pall over the meal, so he was glad when Georgie came downstairs wearing the derby and distracting everyone.

Zack whistled. “Georgie, you look so good I might take to wearing one of those hats myself.”

Georgie did indeed look good in the hat, which he had set upon his head tilted in a jaunty fashion. Evan usually wore it square on his head.

Mrs. Newcomb merely stared silently. Perhaps she saw how much more grown-up her fourteen-year-old son suddenly appeared. Maggie and Ellie offered effusive praise. Mrs. Spooner went up to Georgie, put an arm around him, and kissed his cheek.

“This is one female you have impressed,” she said with a grin.

“Aw, Grandma!” Georgie started to blush.

“My hat never looked better,” Evan said. “I think it was made for you. It even fits tolerably well.” He paused, and it occurred to him how he could really make an impression on the Newcombs. “Georgie, would you like to borrow that hat for a while? I’ve got another, so I won’t miss it.”

Georgie shot a look at his father, who gave a slight nod.

“I’d like that a lot!” Georgie said. “Thank you very much.”

Mrs. Newcomb smiled at Evan, apparently pleased that he had done something to make her son so happy. Then she said, “Supper is ready. Come to the table.”

As Georgie headed to the table, still wearing the hat, Mrs. Newcomb added, “Though you look as handsome as a prince, son, we still don’t wear hats at the table.” Georgie obediently hung the hat on the coatrack, and everyone moved to the table.

Though Evan had overdressed for the evening, he was happy to see the meal was being treated as a usual family dinner. He liked that the Newcombs didn’t feel they had to be formal for his sake. He might not fit in as well as Zack, who was treated like one of the family, but there was perhaps some hope for Evan. A simple meal of stewed chicken, carrots, onions, and turnips, with a side dish of boiled potatoes, was laid out on the table. They ate off everyday crockery.

Mr. Newcomb began the meal with a simple but sincere blessing, then the group burst into chatter as food was passed and conversation evolved. Everyone must have agreed that Tommy’s trial was not an appropriate topic for supper, because they did not return to that subject. Instead, they talked about various events or news of the day. They questioned him about Boston and listened avidly to his tales of a part of the country none had ever visited.

Evan enjoyed these folks enormously. Meals at the Parker home were always far more formal and definitely less interesting. Mabel usually dominated the conversation, lately with endless talk of her fiancé and their forthcoming wedding. Mother engaged with Mabel, and sometimes with Evan, but seldom did she and Evan’s father say much to each other. They did not have the easy camaraderie he noted between Mr. and Mrs. Newcomb.

Zack had been rather quiet during the meal, but when Mr. Newcomb finished a story about a breakdown at the mill that afternoon, Zack began to move about restlessly.

“You okay, Zack?” Mr. Newcomb asked.

“Well . . .” he hesitated.

Evan didn’t know Zack well, but what he had seen of the man indicated that the one thing he didn’t lack was confidence. His reticence now didn’t seem much in character.

Zack took a breath and plunged ahead. “I’ve been wanting to say something but . . . I feel strange about it. It’s about the minister’s position. As you know, I have been praying and thinking about it lately. At first there was no way I’d have even considered it, so just for me to think about it is pretty amazing.” He looked over at Ellie seated beside him. She smiled encouragement but her brow was knit as though she did not know what he was about to say.

“Go on, Zack,” Mr. Newcomb said. “You are among friends.”

“I know that, if I know nothing else! What I have struggled with is this whole idea of ‘hearing God’s Call.’ Finally, last night a bit of a sermon I preached, or rather recited, came back to me. I never listened much to Reverend Markus’s sermons while I was memorizing them or speaking them, but I guess they are hiding in my brain somewhere, because lines will pop into my head every now and then. What I remembered was something about stepping forward in faith, trusting that God will lead me in His ways.”

“Why, Zack!” Ellie exclaimed. “Maggie was saying that very thing today. She remembered that sermon, too. She said the best way to know God’s will was to move ahead, trusting God to direct you.”

“Maggie, I should have come to you for counsel all along!” Zack said with a chuckle.

“Oh, it was nothing. Just horse sense, like Dad always tells us.” She tried to sound casual, but her cheeks pinked as she spoke. Evan glanced around and saw the pride on her parents’ faces.

Zack went on, “Today, I rode into St. Helens and had a talk with Reverend Barnett. He actually asked for a copy of that sermon so he could use some of it himself. But of course, I don’t have one, since it got burned up in the fire at the Copelands’. Anyway, he has agreed to help me. He says if I don’t mind his being of another denomination, I can apprentice to him for a period of time, both as training and as a kind of probation to be sure this is what God wants for me. He thinks that out here in the West where there is no seminary, an apprenticeship ought to be sufficient for me to eventually be licensed. So that’s what I am going to do—if you think it is all right, Ellie. And Mr. and Mrs. Newcomb, I would greatly appreciate your counsel in this, as well.”

The eruption of well-wishing and encouragement that spread around the table was doubtless a clear indication of where the Newcombs stood. Ellie’s smile revealed her feelings on the matter.

“I feel certain the denomination headquarters will think this is an excellent idea,” Mr. Newcomb said.

“Our prayers have been answered,” Mrs. Newcomb put in. “We will have a minister once again.”

“The pick of the crop, to boot!” added Maggie.

“But, Zack,” Ellie said more earnestly, “you know my happiness is for you, that you are setting upon a path of your choosing. My affection for you would be the same regardless of what you did for a living.”

Zack took her hand in his. “I know, Ellie. But I couldn’t do this without your support and your desire to one day be a minister’s wife. It is a ministry for both of us, I believe.”

“I will be honored to serve God with you,” she replied.

Evan was especially moved by the affection he saw between Zack and Ellie. The way Zack gazed at Ellie with such love and respect made Evan long for a time when he, too, could look openly upon the woman he loved with the same glow in his eyes. Now he had to studiously avert his eyes from Maggie. One look and he would have glowed, not only with love but with a face red as a beet. He was happy that for the rest of the meal he was hardly noticed at all. Everyone’s attention became focused on Zack and his immediate plans.

When the main course was cleared away, Maggie went to the kitchen and returned with a pie.

“Huckleberry-apple!” She grinned at Evan. “But Grandma made it, so it’s edible.”

“Maggie, your baking is coming along very nicely,” Mrs. Spooner said.

They had pie and coffee, and then Evan, Zack, and Mr. Newcomb adjourned to the hearth area, while Georgie excused himself, after more thanks for the hat, to go to his room to do homework. Mrs. Newcomb was about to help the women with the dishes, but Maggie shooed her away.

“Mama, I think Evan wants to talk to both you and Dad about Tommy,” Maggie said.

Since there was plenty of help in the kitchen, Mrs. Newcomb removed her apron and joined the men. She sat on a stool by a lamp and took up her sewing while they talked. Evan asked Mr. Newcomb about the scene of Tom’s death. Then Zack shared about meeting Tommy later at the Veronia lumber camp and how Tommy had willingly turned himself in to the sheriff in St. Helens.

“I’d be willing to testify regarding Tommy’s character,” Zack said, “but I have already been told my past would make me a bad witness. Maybe . . .” His voice trailed away with uncertainty. “I wish I was already the minister. Maybe it would help boost confidence in my testimony.”

“I might still call you to the stand,” Evan said. “There are enough folks around who think highly of you.”

“I will be willing to testify,” Mr. Newcomb said. “Boyd would, too.”

“I don’t think there would be a need to pull him away from the lumber camp.”

“He will be home soon enough when the rain starts,” Mrs. Newcomb said. “And, of course, his wedding is only a few weeks away.”

“The trial will start next week, and I hope will last only a couple of days,” Evan said.

“Evan,” Mrs. Newcomb began. Her hands paused in her stitching, and she looked up, meeting his eyes squarely. “I must confess something to you. I hope you can understand my reti-cence—” She shot a glance toward the kitchen, where Maggie had ceased her work and was listening to the conversation. “I hope you understand, as well, Maggie. In my defense, it was only recently that I realized the importance of . . . well, of seeing some of the goings-on at the Donnelly house. I saw Tom Don-nelly strike Tommy. I happened upon the scene—” Her voice caught, but she took a breath and went on, “I yelled at him to stop, and then Tommy took the opportunity of my interruption to run away. Believing the boy to be safe, I left. I didn’t even go to the house to visit with Jane, as I had planned. I have never said anything because Jane doesn’t know, and I feared it might change something in our friendship. She might have been too embarrassed to be around me. I will testify if you think it will help Tommy.”