The House on Malcolm Street (37 page)

“Leah. It’s okay. Don’t feel bad for letting it show, all right? You’re human. Like me. Kinda busted up inside over losing the one you love. But it’s gonna be all right.”

I expected her to pull away. I could not have been more surprised that she didn’t. She sunk in my arms, like a child finding a haven, and I wondered if Marigold knew this was going to happen.

“Peace,” I said softly. “Lord, give her peace.”

My eyes filled with tears, recognizing those words from Marigold’s lips. More than once she’d said them. “Lord, give him peace.” And it had helped, even the times when I hadn’t wanted to acknowledge that it could.

Finally, Leah was still. The shaking gone, the sobs erased. I thought she’d sit up then, to distance herself from me and act like this had never happened. But she didn’t move. Neither did I, for a long time, until I just couldn’t help wondering if she was really all right. Leaning close then I realized that she’d drifted into sleep.

It was a wonder, a marvel I could have never expected. I prayed that Joe Pesh would stay away and no one else would say a word to disturb her. And I sat as still as I could, afraid to move a muscle lest I wake her. For some reason I wanted her to sleep as long as possible, to stay just this way for the whole trip if the Lord willed it so I could hold her in my arms and know she was at peace.

I didn’t expect to feel the way I felt. Like this moment had been specially arranged and I was blessed just to be with this beautiful and strong woman in her need. It made me wonder if there could ever be something between us, despite my coarse and foolish behavior. Hopefully Leah wouldn’t be angry when she woke. I closed my eyes, thankful that I’d done what Marigold had told me to do.

Lord, you work in strange ways. You really surprised me here. And I can’t ask for nothing special. Just that you help her. Whatever the problem is, whatever started all this, you know. Let your peace run down inside her and never go away . . .

34
Leah

I woke to the sound of a train whistle again, but it seemed to not roar quite so loudly nor so threateningly as before. At first I was surprised to find Josiah’s arms around me, and then I remembered that he’d grabbed me and held me in my panic and tears. And instead of being afraid, I’d welcomed his touch, his reassuring strength.

But it wouldn’t be right to linger when the tears were gone. I lifted my head, I moved my arm, and he jolted a little. He must have fallen asleep too.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered and sat up, scooting just enough away that we were no longer touching.

“Don’t be,” he said. “We all gotta cry.”

We sat in silence, the awkwardness of the moment hanging between us. I glanced out the train window. “Where are we?”

“Almost to St. Louis already. Makes a quick trip when you sleep through half of it.”

“I – I didn’t sleep well last night.”

“I understand. I have that problem sometimes.”

I stared out the window. Why in the world was I talking to him? Why especially was I longing to talk to him more? “I don’t think you really understand,” I began slowly. “Nightmares kept me from rest. A jumble of them this time, all about trains.”

I glanced at him. He was looking at me with a softness, almost sadness, in his eyes. “Do you have nightmares often?”

“Yes. Very often. And always about trains.”

“Since John died?”

“No. Way before then. Even before I was Eliza’s age. I don’t really remember not having them, except that it was better when I was with John. And so much worse since . . .”

He looked puzzled. “I can understand worse since. But do you know why all this started?”

I shook my head. Maybe there was no reason at all.

He let out a long sigh. “I’ve come to believe that whenever there’s deep pain, there’s a reason for it somewhere. Maybe the Lord will show you one of these days.”

“What if I don’t wish to know? Maybe that would just make things worse.”

But he disagreed. “There’s peace in knowing. I’ve seen panic before. Don’t seem to be nothing rational to it. But there’s a cause, there has to be. And when you get down to that, I’d betcha the panic’d go away.”

“When it happened when I was a child, my father would say I was just a whiny baby grabbing for attention.”

“Maybe he was hiding his head from the truth.”

I let the remark remain unanswered. He didn’t know my father or anything about this. I’d already told him too much. There was no point in any further words.

Before long, I saw the Mississippi River bridge and tensed, especially when the whistle blew again. To my surprise, Josiah took my arm, and that seemed to make it better. Soon we were arriving in the city, and I found myself reluctant for him to go.

“How soon is the train going back?” I asked a little nervously.

“I’ve got plenty of time. So if you’ll let me, I’m going to check when the train going south to Sugar Creek is leaving. I aim to see you safely on it. Do you think you’d be all right from there?”

I’d have to be. I couldn’t ask him to go with me any farther. It would make it impossible for him to board his connection back home. And it wouldn’t do for me to be showing up in my hometown with a strange man, anyhow. “Yes. I think I’ll be fine now.”

“Okay. Let me go see about your train.”

He escorted me to a seat in the station house and went to the counter to make sure they’d told him right in Andersonville when the next train would be headed south. It turned out I had a two-hour wait, which I didn’t relish in such close proximity to the tracks. But Josiah surprised me again by offering to buy me a meal at a restaurant just down the street.

“I don’t know . . .”

“Oh, come on. I need something to eat before I get on that train headin’ back. And I’d hate to leave a lady sitting here alone.”

“We’ve still got the bag of Marigold’s scones.”

“I thought since they made it this far, you oughta go on and take ’em to your father. Besides, I’ve got a taste for something hot right now. But like I said, I don’t wanna leave you alone.”

I watched his expression, wondering what he was thinking. “Then would you stay and wait here if I refused to go with you?”

“Yeah. I guess I would. And make Marigold feed me up extra when I get back.”

I took a deep breath. How should I react to this? His train would be arriving a few minutes after my own, but somehow I knew that he’d miss his train if he needed to, whatever the cost, to be here and make sure I got on mine safely. But Marigold didn’t require that of him. It was a choice he’d made for himself.

“I suppose we’d better walk to the restaurant then,” I told him lightly. “I wouldn’t want to put Marigold through all that work.”

He smiled. He took my arm again. It was a strange feeling. And though I didn’t feel nearly as shaky and weak as I had before, I let it be.

35
Leah

Josiah put me on the Sugar Creek train, even though it nearly made him late catching his own. I found it hard to reconcile in my mind what had happened.

Why had I let him get so close to me, or accepted Marigold’s notion that he come along at all? But how could I have managed if he hadn’t? I’d not had such a panic come over me since I was a child. I’d felt like I couldn’t even breathe, that the fear had a stranglehold over my body as well as my mind.

It wasn’t rational, just as he’d said. But whether there was any cause I might never know.

I didn’t come close to enjoying the final leg of my journey on the train, but it wasn’t as bad as I’d thought it might be. The immensity of fear had seemed to melt away in Josiah’s arms. And it hadn’t returned.

Still I had my father to face. The little Sugar Creek station was even smaller than the one at Andersonville. Even in the daylight, there was no one around, and I had to walk a block and a half to the filling station to ask to use the phone. Father didn’t have a phone at the farm. But a neighbor did, and I’d already told him what day I would arrive. Rather than planning to wait at the station, Mr. Rafferty had said to call again when I got here, that he’d drive in and pick me up.

Maybe he’d thought I’d change my mind at the last minute. It really wasn’t far from the truth. I stood outside of Buck and Bill’s Gas and Service after the phone call, watching for Mr. Rafferty’s truck on the road running east out of town. I didn’t know if he’d told my father I was coming. I hadn’t told him to, nor told him not to. Either way, I couldn’t picture how Father would react to me finally showing up at home again.

Eldon Rafferty drove slow like he wasn’t used to maneuvering on the road in a motor vehicle. And maybe he wasn’t. The last I remembered he still drove a horse and wagon.

“Well. My wife is pleased you come. Your father’s ailing, you know. It’s good you come to see about him.”

My stomach was tight, and I felt like my throat was all bound up with knots. But I made myself answer him smoothly. “Thank you so much for the ride.”

“No problem. Ain’t far.”

We rode in silence. Nearly five miles to the farm. The house looked almost the same, but older, in need of some time and attention. One of the trees in the front yard had toppled over and still lay where it fell.

“Have a good evening now,” Mr. Rafferty said. “Tell your pappy how-do.”

“I will. Thank you.”

I stood in the yard as he drove away, this whole thing not even seeming real. Maybe I’d wake in a moment’s time and find Eliza cuddled beside me and the scent of Marigold’s fresh biscuits already in the air.

Skeeter the dog limped out to meet me. He’d been young and spry not so awfully long ago, but now he looked gray and tired, the years catching up with him. He didn’t bark, just stood and nuzzled my hand with his nose.

“Just like always, huh, Skeeter? Need a little attention?”

I petted the dog, leaned and gave him a hug. For some reason the simple act brought tears to my eyes. Would I be able to do this much for my father? Would he let me get even half so close?

I took a deep breath. I was here. It was real. And I would have to go inside. The breeze caught my skirt and gave it a swirl, and I kept hold of the shawl Marigold had given me, to make sure I didn’t drop it out here in the unmowed grass.

I knocked just once and then opened the door, not wanting to make him get up if he were lying down. “Hello? Father?”

He didn’t answer till I was fully in the room and had closed the door behind me.

“Well. Let me look at you.”

He was propped at the head of a bed someone must have moved downstairs for him. That and a padded rocking chair dominated what had once been Mother’s delicately furnished sitting room.

“Mr. Rafferty said to tell you hello.” It seemed a safe way to answer him, at least for now.

“Um-hum. Did he ask a lot of questions?”

“None.”

“Good. Don’t need nobody knowin’ our business.”

I stepped a little closer. He looked a bit gray, but it was difficult to tell with the curtains closed. “Are you all right?”

“’Course I’m not. Or I’d be out in the orchard where I belong. Still daylight.”

I moved to the chair near him. “Can you tell me about the problem?”

“Heart’s bad,” he grumbled with a frown. “Done told you that already in the letter.”

Maybe it wouldn’t get any better. At least he was talking to me and not yelling. I decided to be really brave. “God loves you, Father. Just like Mama used to say. And – and I do too.”

He seemed to have a catch in his throat all of a sudden. When he found his voice, it was a good deal quieter. “Well, if you do, seems like you’d want to fix us some supper. I ain’t et for hours. How ’bout you?”

“Not since St. Louis. What would you like?”

“Don’t care. Anything you can find that’s worth fixin’.”

I thought about presenting Marigold’s scones first thing, but maybe that would be better for a snack later, or breakfast tomorrow. I really wanted to cook something, if only to give my hands something busy to do for a few minutes in the kitchen away from him. I needed to think a little, breathe a little, in the next room before speaking to him again.

I certainly didn’t find the same problem here as at the Kurchers’. Father had an abundance of groceries of all sorts as if he’d just gone to market and brought home plenty of everything he could find. Some of it still sat in boxes and bags, waiting to be unpacked.

The dishes were done, but besides that, it looked like nothing in the kitchen had been cleaned for a month. A dead bug lay on the floor beneath the table, and I saw the telltale sign of mice on a countertop.

I wished he’d told me what he’d like to eat. I saw a sausage in the icebox and decided on biscuits and gravy. I knew he liked that. At least he had years ago when I was a child.

I worked in silence, and he waited in silence. When it was finally ready, I wasn’t sure whether he was able to come to the table, so I carried two plates right to him in the sitting room.

He took a good look at the food I’d handed him and shook his head. “Train’s got you all mixed up, girl. It ain’t breakfast time.” He lifted the fork to his mouth. “Still, I ain’t et nothing this good in a long time.”

I smiled. I cleaned off my plate in peace. We didn’t say much more that night. He didn’t say he was glad I’d come, or ask about Eliza, even when I gave him the picture she’d drawn. I cleaned up the dishes and then started washing the countertops and table. When I looked in on him, he’d gone to sleep, so I swept and mopped the floor before taking a break again in the big rocker.

This time he woke and turned his eyes to me. “Doctor’ll be here Monday.”

“Does he come often?”

“Twice a week. Used to be more, but I made him quit. Orville comes in every day. He’s my hired man. Been doing the harvest. He’s the one brought in the groceries.”

“Good. I’m glad you’ve got help.”

“He ain’t help. He’s working for his own benefit. Wants to buy this place. If he can keep it from falling down too bad, so much the better for him when I’m gone.”

I was stunned to hear him speak of such things so casually, and surprised to find the words so deeply cutting to me.

“What does the doctor say?”