The Promise of Morning (16 page)

Matthew pinched his lower lip. “I pray not.”

“No one saw him? You didn’t find any tracks?”

“No.”

Ellie rested her elbows on the tabletop and buried her face in her hands. Matthew laid a hand on her shoulder, waiting for the sound of sobs, but none came.

After a moment, she raised dry eyes and studied his face. “I’m tired of crying. I’m tired of being left. I’m going to locate my father’s family in Texas and bring them here.”

He stared at her, mouth agape. “What does that have to do with your aunt and uncle? There is no family in Texas. Please. Be realistic.” He lifted his hands. “Besides, if we can’t find Arthur right here in Illinois, how on earth can you expect to track down people hundreds of miles from here?”

“I’ll find a way.”

Matthew stood next to his upended plow inside the barn. Stray bits of hay blew along the packed earth floor at his feet. He dipped a brush into a pail and painted the green moldboard behind the plowshare, covering areas scraped bare by spring plowing. The smell of linseed oil rose to his nostrils after each brushstroke.

The familiar sound of his horses crunching hay in their stalls formed a soothing counterpoint for his tumbling thoughts about Ellie and Arthur.

Sighing, he laid his brush to one side and picked up a narrow paddle, stirring the paint to keep it from separating. As he watched green pigment swirl through the oil base, he heard his children approach the barn.

“You ask him.”

“No, you.”

“What do you boys want?” he asked, recognizing Jimmy and Johnny’s voices. When the twins stepped into the dim interior, he saw Harrison and Maria tagging behind them.

“We want to know . . .” Johnny’s voice trailed off.

Jimmy poked him in the ribs. “Come on. You said you’d do it.”

Matthew placed an arm around Johnny’s shoulder. “It must be important to bring the whole pack of you out here.” Harrison and Maria edged closer, and he used his free hand to give one of Maria’s braids a playful tug. He quirked an eyebrow at the twins and waited.

Johnny took a deep breath. “What’s an adulteress?” The words tumbled out with barely a pause between them.

Four pairs of eyes watched him as he fumbled for a response. Without asking, he knew the term had most likely been overheard after church the previous Sunday. He turned to his daughter. “Maria, you go help your mama get supper on the table. Harrison, you go with her.” As he spoke, he bent over and dropped a kiss on his daughter’s head. “This is grown-up talk.”

Reluctantly, the two youngest children left the barn. Arms folded, Matthew watched as they passed the black walnut sapling between the barn and the house and climbed the back steps. He couldn’t help but smile. If they walked any slower, they’d be moving backward.

Then he leaned against the side of a stall and answered his sons. “An adulteress is a married woman who lays with a man who is not her husband.”

“Told you so.” Jimmy said to his brother.

Matthew frowned at them. “Now tell me why you asked such a question.”

“One of the town boys said that’s what Aunt Ruby is.” This time Johnny spoke up with no hesitation.

“Listen to me. We don’t know for certain what happened to your aunt. It’s best not to stoop to name-calling, do you understand?”

“But isn’t that why Uncle Arthur went away? Because his wife is a bad woman?”

Putting an arm around each of his sons, he hugged them to him. “You miss your uncle, don’t you?”

They nodded.

“So do I. And I’m worried about him. But listening to gossip and repeating it will do more harm than good. You know what the Bible says about being a talebearer.”

Jimmy’s face reddened. “Yes, Papa.”

“We’re sorry,” Johnny added.

Matthew pulled his watch from his pocket and snapped the lid open. “More than an hour before supper. Plenty of time for you to hoe a couple rows of corn.”

He watched the boys as they walked to the cornfield, his lips pressed in a tight line, wishing that he could protect his children from life’s hurts.

The following week, Matthew drove his family to his sister’s house so Ellie could join Molly and Charity Wolcott for their Thursday afternoon quilting session. Maria sat between them on the front seat, and their three boys rode in the rear, legs dangling over the open back of the buckboard. Taking the children allowed the youngsters an afternoon of play with their cousins while Ellie visited with the women.

She hadn’t brought up the subject of her possible Texas family since the day he’d returned from searching for Arthur. He hoped it had been a passing fancy, brought on by the shock of Arthur and Ruby’s disappearances. “It’s good to see you so pert.”

“I’ve been looking forward to this. I miss having other women to talk to.” She gave him a sideways glance over the top of Maria’s head. “Sundays aren’t as good for visiting as they used to be.”

“No, they’re not,” he said, glad she’d brought the subject of his eroding congregation into the open.

They’d tiptoed around it long enough. Last week, even the Beldons were missing. Matthew intended to seek Ben’s advice while his family spent the afternoon at Molly’s.

When Matthew entered the mercantile, the customer at the counter glanced at him, then dropped his eyes. Matthew walked over to him and put out his right hand. “How’ve you been? I’ve missed seeing you in church.”

After a moment’s pause, Orville Carstairs shook his hand without enthusiasm. “I’m fine. We’ve been, uh, worshiping somewheres else.”

As far as Matthew knew, the church he pastored was the only church in Beldon Grove. Across the counter, Ben lifted his index finger in a “wait a moment” motion. Glancing between the two men, Matthew realized there was something Ben wanted to tell him, and he didn’t want to do it in front of Orville.

“Well, give my best to your wife.” He laid a hand on Orville’s shoulder. “Tell her the lilac start she gave Mrs. Craig is flourishing.”

“I’ll do that.” Clutching his parcel, he fled the store.

Ben closed the cash box and led the way to the back room. Matthew saw two chairs pushed against a wall, dwarfed by flour and vinegar barrels, crates of merchandise, and stacks of pots and lanterns.

With a sigh, Ben sank into one of the chairs and pushed the other one toward him. “Take a load off, Matt.”

Without preamble, Matthew launched into the reason for his visit. “Any idea what’s happening with the church? Last Sunday I could count attendance with my fingers and still have a thumb to spare.”

Ben nodded. “It’s Beldon. He started a Wednesday night prayer meeting over at the hotel, and he’s got folks convinced that God doesn’t want you preaching his word.”

Matthew felt like he’d just fallen through a hidden trap door. “But . . . folks around here are my friends. You know how hard we worked on the church building. How could anyone convince them God doesn’t want me as their pastor?”

“Beldon hasn’t tried it on me, but I hear he uses scriptures like the ones where God casts down unworthy priests like Eli’s sons.”

“What does that have to do with Beldon Grove? There’s no point of comparison.”

Shaking his head, Ben said, “I know that, and you know that. But take a person like Orville Carstairs, for instance. I doubt he’s able to read the Bible for himself, so he takes the word of someone like Beldon. Lots of folks in this town can’t read much more than their name. Many of them don’t even have Bibles.” He shifted in his chair and looked directly into Matthew’s eyes. “I think when Ruby and then Arthur disappeared, that’s what drove the final nail in your coffin. Scripture says a church leader should be one who rules his own house well, and Beldon is holding Ruby and Arthur up as proof that you can’t even maintain order in your own family.”

13

Ellie faced Molly and Charity across the quilt frame. While she worked her needle around a piece of blue calico, she studied the progress they had made over the past months. The quilt top resembled a flower garden in riotous bloom. Yellow, pink, blue, green, and violet pieces joined together like the cells of a honeycomb. “Why isn’t Luellen in here helping with the stitching? This is for her bridal chest, isn’t it?”

Molly shook her head. “She said she’d rather read. She’s not interested in being a bride.”

“At eleven years old, I expect she’s not,” Charity said. When she smiled, her expression gave a hint of the carefree girl she’d once been. Eyes twinkling, she continued, “But she needs to learn to quilt right along with baking and cleaning—and reading.”

“I know that,” Molly said. “It’s Luellen you need to convince.” She focused her attention on stitching a double pink piece to the background fabric.

The women worked in silence for a few minutes, then Ellie turned to Molly and said, “It’s been over four weeks since James left. Has he sent word?”

“Nothing yet. But I’ve found a way to learn where he is.”

Charity and Ellie both stopped sewing and stared at her. Almost in unison, they asked, “How?”

“I happened to see Mr. Beldon outside the mercantile one day. Somehow he’d heard about James’s leaving and asked about him.” Molly tucked her needle into the quilt top and laced her fingers together. “He offered to contact officials in Decatur. Turns out James was a bit hasty—the militia hasn’t been officially called up yet.”

“How can you remain so calm? I’d be frantic.” Ellie looked at Charity. “Wouldn’t you?”

Charity tilted her head to one side. “After what happened with Franklin, perhaps she’s learned to trust.”

“I have, indeed. But another part of what I learned is that the Lord sends help from unlikely sources. And I believe Mr. Beldon will be able to tell us where James is, and perhaps persuade him to come home.”

Ellie leaned forward, intrigued. “When will he let you know?”

“He said to come to his office in a couple of weeks. There should be a reply by then.”

The colors of the quilt top danced in front of Ellie’s eyes. “You would go to the hotel . . . alone?”

“It’s perfectly safe. I’d be in one of the parlors, not his private rooms, for goodness’ sake.”

“I’m not sure that’s wise,” Charity said.

Molly lifted her chin. “I’ll do anything to find out where James is.”

Ellie nodded, a plan forming in her mind
.