Love's Story (32 page)

“When he has eighteen mouths to feed, he won't be so deceived,” Mrs. Steele said, and the women cackled with laughter.

“Seriously, what can he possibly see in her? She's so dark, so completely unattractive, if you ask me,” Mrs. Thorne said.

“The spices she uses give her the most unappealing scent. Have you ever noticed?” Chimed in Mrs. Davenport, sniffing for effect.

“Lucky for Seth he takes after his father,” Mrs. Irving snorted, referring to Seth's light coloring.

Rachel felt ill over the conversation and tried to blink away the tears as she heard Maria being spoken of in such evil tones.
What rubbish! Maria is lovely, just like my mother! And how many men whistled at her! I hugged Maria myself and I distinctly smelled lavender, not any peculiar spice.
Rachel thought to herself how untrue each of the statements had been.

Enthusiasm for the next patchwork quilt in Searsville was instantly replaced by the desire to leave the present gathering. She found herself inventing excuses, her mind searching for something that was not obvious. She wanted to confront the women, but worried about how it might appear.

As the gossip continued, Rachel looked at Mrs. Hopper for moral support. Rachel was saddened that although Thelma had not participated in the mean-spiritedness of the evening, she had done nothing to stop it. In fact, she seemed to be relishing the vicious lies.

It was at least an hour before Rachel could invent a reason to pardon herself. She finally came up with the mundane excuse of a headache, making apologies as she headed for the door. Once outside, she burst into tears and fled home to Mrs. Hopper's. She put the kettle on with plans for tea and sat down to have her first gushing cry since leaving her mother.

Outside Mrs. Hopper's home on the shore of the village lake sat Chase Dylan and his small companion.

“I thought you were supposed to fish in the morning,” Henry stated innocently.

“What do you think, the fish leave the lake after noon?” Chase asked, a sparkle in his eye.

“Then why does everybody fish in the morning? Are the fish sleeping?”

“If they are, it should be that much easier to catch 'em.” Chase laughed and Henry joined in, thrilled to be fishing at any time of day with Mr. Dylan.

“I heard you tell Mama Jeremiah got 'moted to fallen. What's that?” Henry asked.

“Promoted.
Jeremiah got promoted, which means he moved up to a better job with more responsibility. The lead faller is a very important job that takes lots of skill. He's the man that yells,
TIM-BERRR
before the tree comes down. But first he must decide exactly where the tree should fall and plan for it. Once he knows where the tree will lie, he prepares a ‘bed' for it. That usually means leveling the ground so the trunk won't break in two. We lose valuable lumber that way.”

“I want to be the lead faller when I grow up, Mr. Dylan,” Henry declared.

“Well now, I thought for sure you'd want to be an engineer on the new railroad in town,” Chase teased, while painfully recalling Henry's father's death at the mercy of a poor faller.

“Have you seen the new train? Is it as big as they say? Is it loud? Can I ride it someday?” Henry's eagerness would have produced forty more questions had Chase not curtailed it.

“The train begins running through Redwood in October. I'll work it out with your mother so that you can come with me to town and see the big steam engine. But, only if you behave properly in school.”

“Oh, I will, Mr. Dylan, I promise. I want Miss Phillips to like me. I like her, she's real pretty.”

“Yes, she is, Henry.” Chase sighed and began threading a flipping worm onto Henry's hook. With a mighty thrust, Henry's hook was hurled toward the center of the lake, and the two sat watching their lines in the stillness of the water with satisfaction. The crickets chirped and the air began to cool pleasantly as the sun started its descent. Chase and Henry fished in silence for quite a while before Chase brought up the lesson in tonight's fishing trip. “Do you know why we're fishing tonight, Henry?”

“To catch a fish?” The boy's eyes looked up questioningly at his companion.

“Well, of course that's part of it, but it's in our Bible lesson for tonight. Did you know that Jesus knew quite a few fishermen?”

“They fished back then?”

“That's right. A long time ago Jesus walked by the Sea of Galilee, and He came across two fishermen. One was named Simon, who was also called Peter, and the other was Andrew, his brother. They were casting their fishing net into the sea. You see, they used to fish with big nets instead of a pole.” Chase's hands moved to demonstrate the size of the net, and he continued.

“Jesus told them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fishers of men,' and they left their nets to follow Him. Then Jesus saw two more brothers, their names were James and John, and they were
also
fisherman. Jesus found them on an anchored ship with their father as they were mending their nets. Jesus called for them, too, and they immediately left their ship and their father to follow Him. Do you know why these fishermen left their jobs and their tools to follow Jesus?”

“Because He asked them to?”

“Yes, because He asked them, but also because He was the Lord and they left everything, including their livelihood and their families, to put Him first. That's what God asks of us, that we put Him first. He called these fishermen ‘disciples' and told them they would now be fishers of men, spreading the Word of God.”

“Do I have to leave my mom to follow Jesus, Mr. Dylan?” Henry's face was fraught with worry. Chase hadn't anticipated this; he had to remember when he prepared these lessons that Henry took everything quite literally.

“No, pard'ner. Your mom is here to take care of you, until you're big enough to do it alone. James and John were all grown up when they met Jesus.”

“How come we always talk about Jesus, Mr. Dylan?”

“Don't you like to talk about the Lord, Henry?”

“Yes… I always tell Mama what I learned when we talk.”

“And what does she say?”

“She says, ‘That's nice, Henry.'”

“Well, Henry, your father loved Jesus very much. That's how we know your daddy's in heaven with the Lord right now. It was very important to your daddy that you learn about Jesus, and since he's not here, he asked me to make sure you were taught.” Chase hoped he'd found the right words, but this promise had been harder to keep than he'd imagined.

Chase wanted to do everything correctly around Henry to help ensure that the boy's father would get to see him again, in heaven. Although he knew Henry's salvation was ultimately in the Lord's hands, he felt he must do everything within his power to help the process along.

“I'm glad my daddy's in heaven, Chase.”

“Me, too, Henry.” Chase smiled down at the boy and they turned their attention to the tranquillity of the calm lake, each lost in his own thoughts.

The quilting circle came to a close and Mrs. Hopper returned to a darkened house. She climbed the steep staircase with a candle and knocked softly on Rachel's bedroom door. “Rachel honey, are you all right? May I come in?”

“Sure, Thelma. Come on in.” Rachel was glad for the darkness that would shelter her puffy eyes from the older woman. She relinquished the pillow she'd been clutching.

Mrs. Hopper set a tray of tea and cookies before her. “Oh my dear, I was so worried about you. How is your headache?” Thelma set the tray on the dresser and rested her hand upon Rachel's forehead.

“I'm fine, Thelma. Thank you. I guess I just needed a little rest. Preparing for the school year ahead has perhaps been too much for me.” Rachel hadn't decided how she would broach the gossip subject, but she did know now was not the time. She was still far too emotional about the issue.

“I brought home a few cookies for you. I don't know a headache yet that can't be remedied with a little tea and cookies.” Mrs. Hopper had a tender smile that made Rachel forget about the offensive events of the evening and enjoy her present company.

“I've been meaning to ask: What do you think of your room?” Mrs. Hopper looked around the room with pleasure.

Rachel's bedroom was decorated entirely in various shades of blue and white. There were gingham curtains on the window and a lovely star-patterned quilt on the bed. All of the furniture was of the highest quality carved oak, and even the wash basin atop the dresser was embellished with hand-painted, coordinating blue flowers.

Rachel had never had a room of her own like this one. In Weberville she slept in the main room of the cabin, and in San Francisco her quarters in Marshall's mansion never really felt like home. The simplicity of the furnishings here pleased Rachel immensely.

“Thelma, I love this room. It's so feminine and it makes me feel as though I decorated it myself,” Rachel answered truthfully. Mrs. Hopper had a look of satisfaction as her eyes surveyed her handiwork.

“That's just how I wanted our guests to feel… at home.” Mrs. Hopper's comment suddenly made Rachel think of her mother. That was all this home was missing, her mother and little brother. Suddenly, she longed to speak to her mother, to have one of their special discussions, even if it were only on paper.

“Speaking of home, I should get started on a letter to my mother. I haven't written my family yet; they don't even know where I'm staying.” Rachel's voice was agitated as she remembered her neglect.

Mrs. Hopper sensed Rachel's dismay and announced, “Far be it from me to keep a daughter from writing home. You know, Mr. Hopper and I were never blessed with children, but I know I'd expect a letter nearly every day if my own daughter moved away.” With that statement Thelma quietly exited the room, leaving Rachel to her writing.

“Mama, Mama. I'm going to be a fisher of men!” Henry rushed into his mother's arms and excitedly began to tell her of his night's lesson. In the doorway, Chase Dylan stood with a set of fishing poles, a bucket, and a smile on his face.

“That's nice, son,” Gretchen said, her attention on Chase. “Now go on up to bed, sweetheart, it's late.”

“Well, we didn't catch anything, but I'd say the evening was quite a success,” Chase's deep voice announced.

“Chase, I just can't thank you enough for taking Henry off my hands tonight.” Her voice was exceptionally sweet as she started toward the door with her arms outstretched. “Won't you come in for coffee?”

“I think not, Gretchen. I've got an early morning and I want to find my way back to the mill before it gets too dark.”

Chase had always avoided such invitations. It was important the town not get the wrong idea about his intentions, but it was equally important that civility between them continue, for Henry's sake. It was a delicate balance Chase often found difficult to maintain. “I best be off. Thank you for sharing your son with me. He reminds me so of his father. Good night, Gretchen,” he said absently.