Sugar and Spice, page 12
Red washed over his face and he grinned again. A tiny girl who followed with her mother giggled. The boy moved on down the line and the little girl peered up at her.
Cici smiled. “Yes, you’re mighty pretty, too.” She filled two bowls of soup and smiled at the mother. “Do you need help carrying these?”
“Oh no, Patsy can carry hers.” She turned to the child. “Be careful now, honey.”
Cici watched them as she filled another bowl. She breathed a sigh of relief when the little girl set her bowl safely on the table then ran back to where the bread was being handed out.
The door opened and a boy hobbled in on one crutch. He glanced around as though looking for someone then came to the line. He eyed the soup as though he hadn’t eaten in days. Mrs. Nelson filled a bowl for him and he started toward a table.
Suddenly the door flew open. A red-faced man stomped in. He looked around and with thunder in his eyes headed for the lame boy. He jerked the bowl from his hand and set it on the nearest table. With his jaw clenched, he spoke quietly.
The boy nodded and followed him out of the room.
“Why did he do that?” Pain pierced Cici’s heart, and she wiped at the tears that gushed from her eyes. “The boy was hungry.”
The woman who stood in front of her shook her head. “Hiram Jones is a proud man. Won’t take no handouts.”
“But. . .” Cici could find no words. Nausea clutched her stomach.
The woman reached over and took the bowl from her hand. She smiled at Cici. “Don’t worry, honey. Hiram makes sure that boy has his supper ever’ day. He may be a little hollow, but he ain’t starvin’.”
Cici stared as the woman took her bowl and went down the line to get her bread. How could she be so uncaring? The boy was lame. And he was hungry. And how could a father be so cruel? A shiver ran over Cici. She couldn’t stand this. She started to untie her apron.
A young girl, maybe thirteen or fourteen, faced her with lowered eyes.
Cici sighed and dropped her arms. She filled a bowl and held it out. “Here you go.”
The girl raised her brown eyes and reached for the bowl. “Thank you, miss,” she whispered.
Well, okay, she’d stay until everyone had soup. And she’d help clean up. But she wouldn’t come back. Ever.
❧
The coolness of the foyer greeted Cici as she walked into the parsonage. She stood for a moment just inside the door and inhaled the smell of the furniture oil that made the hall tables shine. She breathed a sigh of relief. She’d thought the smell of cabbage and unwashed bodies would remain in her nostrils forever, but as she stood there, the familiar home smells took over.
“Cici, dear, why are you standing there?” Her mother stood in the doorway, a concerned smile on her face.
Should she tell her? No, Mama was so strong. What would she think of her daughter being so weak that she would give up her charitable work after one day? “I’m just tired, Mama. I think I’ll go up and change. Do you need my help with anything?”
“No, not for an hour or so. Is Jimmy coming over tonight?”
“No, ma’am. Not tonight.” She started up the stairs. “Oh, Jimmy, I tried. I truly did.”
Sixteen
Jimmy took a bite of ham and one of cheese then followed with a hunk of rye bread. He glanced sideways at Cobb who was peering up and down the street. Jimmy grinned. “What are you looking for?” As if he didn’t know.
“Where are all the kids?” Confusion crossed his face. Lately, to Jimmy’s satisfaction, Cobb had been sharing his lunch with the hungry children, too.
“The soup kitchen. Haven’t you heard about it?”
“Yeah, of course I’ve heard of it. Everyone’s heard of it.But I thought. . .”
“What?”
“I thought the kids would still come.”
Jimmy smiled at the look of disappointment on Cobb’s face. “They’ll be here later. I always tell them a story after work.”
“Yeah? I guess I missed out on what’s been going on while I was out with the Eastland.”
“Guess so.”
Cobb cleared his throat. “Hey, Jimbo, I got something to tell you.”
“Yeah? What is it?” Probably one of his corny jokes.
“It’s about Sutton.” He picked nervously at the paper around his sandwich.
Jimmy stiffened. “Cobb, I don’t want to hear anything about how Sutton has changed.”
“No.” He took a deep breath. “You were right, Jimbo.”
Alert to the tension in Cobb’s voice, Jimmy put his food back in the bucket. “What is it? What do you know?”
“I’m not sure. But Sutton’s been making remarks lately. Nothing I can really put my finger on.” His brow furrowed. “Jimbo, I think he’s planning some kind of revenge on you and Danni.”
Jimmy’s voice rose as he stared at Cobb. “What kind of revenge?”
“I don’t know. I promise I don’t. It’s more a feeling than anything else. The way he looks when he mentions Danni. And you, too.” He took a swig of water from his canteen. “Be careful, and tell that husband of Danni’s to watch out. Sutton hates him.”
Jimmy took a deep breath. “Thanks, Cobb. I know it isn’t easy for you to go against Sutton.”
“It isn’t. He’s been like a father to me.”
Jimmy shook his head. “Cobb, a father doesn’t teach his kids to steal for him. He was using you the same as he was using the rest of us.”
Cobb sighed. “Yeah, I guess I know that now. He’s been hinting around for me to do a job for him. I’ve dodged the idea though.”
Jimmy nodded. He hoped Cobb would continue to hold out. Sutton was ruthless and wouldn’t bat an eye if Cobb went back to prison.
“I’m sorry for the way I acted, Jimbo. I should have believed you. Guess I did, really, but didn’t want to admit it.”
“It’s okay. I understand.” It was hard to face the fact someone you cared about wasn’t what you thought. Jimmy’s stomach clenched. He only hoped that wasn’t the way it was with him and Cici. But she was helping out at the food kitchen. So that proved she had a heart for the people. . .didn’t it?
“I’ve been thinking.” Cobb scratched his head. “Maybe I’ll go to that church with you next Sunday.”
Jimmy laughed and clapped Cobb on the shoulder. “That’s great. I’ve been praying you would. You won’t be sorry, Cobb.”
Cobb grinned. “I hope God don’t faint when I walk in.”
Jimmy winced then grinned. Cobb didn’t mean any disrespect. “You don’t need to worry about that, buddy. God’s a lot stronger than that.” Jimmy wrote down the directions to the church and promised to be waiting on the steps for Cobb.
They finished their lunch and went back to work unloading a cargo ship. They seldom had the chance to work together since the Eastland was so busy.
Jimmy was surprised when Cobb followed him to where the children were waiting.
They were both surrounded the moment they seated themselves.
Little Mike peered up into Cobb’s face. “You going ta tell us stories, too?”
“Naw. We better all listen to Jimmy.” Cobb grinned at the boy and rubbed his shock of greasy hair.
After everyone was settled, Jimmy looked around. “Okay. How many of you went to church last week?”
One little hand went up. Maria Consuela. “I did, Jimmy. I like church.”
“That’s good, Maria.” He glanced around. “Anyone else?”
Looking everywhere but at Jimmy, the children managed to avoid answering.
Jimmy sighed. “Okay, but you know I told you my stories don’t take the place of the house of God. Remember?”
“I’ll go next week, Jimmy,” Bridget piped up. “I promise. And I’ll take Patrick and Mike, too.”
“Good girl, Bridget. You can tell me all about it next Monday, okay?”
She nodded and gave a nervous laugh.
Jimmy hoped she wouldn’t back out. Maybe he should offer to take some of the children with him on Sunday. Something to think about. Silence fell as he told them the story of a boy named Samuel who lived in the temple and heard the voice of God.
“Hows come I can’t hear the voice of God, Jimmy?” Little Sally, always wanting to know and never afraid to ask, peered up at him.
How could he answer in a way she’d understand? “You can hear Him, Sally.” He placed his hand on the front of her torn dress. “Right here, in your heart.”
She looked down. “How?”
Jimmy groaned. Help me, Lord. He smiled into the little girl’s innocent blue eyes. “Hmm. Well, let’s see now. Do you ever think about doing something naughty and then something tells you not to?”
She nodded. “Mama says it’s my konchunch.”
“Yes, your mama is right. God talks to us sometimes through our consciences.” Okay, but that wasn’t enough. He could see in her eyes that it wasn’t. “And He also talks to us through the Bible. Did you know that?”
“Mama has a Bible. Sometimes she reads it to me.” She scrunched up her face. “But I can’t unnerstan’ it.”
“You will, Sally, when you get a little older.” What now? Help me, Lord. He took a deep breath and smiled. “But that’s not the only way God talks to us, Sally. Do you ever want to tell your mama thank you when she’s worked hard to do something nice for you?”
“Like when she makes sweet johnnycakes?” Her mouth puckered into a little pink bow. “Is it God that tells me to give her a hug?”
“That’s exactly right, Bridget.”
She rubbed her dress in the spot over her heart and her eyes lit up. “Oh, I know now. God talks to me lots of times. You know what, Jimmy?”
“What, sweetheart?”
She smiled and held out her arms. “I think God’s telling me to give you a hug, too.”
❧
“Mama.” Cici bit her lip as she folded the turnover dough over the apple filling.
“Yes, dear?” She straightened with the pan of cookies she’d removed from the oven. Smiling, she set them on a towel on the counter.
“How do you keep it up? I mean, all your responsibilities as a minister’s wife must be overwhelming.”
Mama stared. “Whatever do you mean? Of course I’m busy. But most wives and mothers are.”
“But it’s different with you, Mama. Everyone depends on you for everything.” Cici frowned and threw both hands up, inadvertently slinging flour in the air. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’ll clean it up.”
“Wait, Cecilia. Let’s sit a minute.” She pulled out a chair at the table and Cici followed suit. “Now, why don’t you tell me what this is all about?”
Cici sighed. “I’m pretty sure Jimmy will decide to give up law to be a missionary.”
“I see. And you don’t like the idea?” She picked a piece of lint from her apron and stuffed it in the pocket.
“Well, of course I want him to follow his heart.” She sighed again. “I’m not sure, though, if I should marry him.”
“But you’re in love with him, aren’t you?”
“Yes, but I don’t know if I can be a minister’s wife, Mama.” She ducked her head, avoiding her mother’s eyes.
“But darling, if you love him, does it matter which direction he chooses to go?” Her brows furrowed. “Isn’t it a woman’s place to conform to her husband’s choices?”
“Yes, which is why I’m not sure if I should marry him.”
“I’m not sure I understand, Cecilia. Does my life seem so bad to you?”
Cici groaned inwardly. Why couldn’t she be more like this wonderful woman? “Mama”—she reached over and placed her hand on her mother’s work-worn one—“I’ve watched you stay home night after night while Papa took care of other people. And I know it was his duty, but I saw how lonely you were. And you’ve dropped everything at a moment’s notice to go cook and clean for someone who was ill.”
“But any Christian would have done the same.” She slipped her hand from beneath Cici’s and lifted it to Cici’s cheek. “You would have done the same.”
“Once in a while, perhaps, but it’s constant. Every time people have needs, they run to you and Papa.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have begun this conversation. She was only making herself sound selfish and uncaring.
“This is what God has called us to, daughter. Surely you know that. When I married your father, I answered his call as well.”
“Maybe that’s the answer.” Cici frowned. “Maybe God isn’t calling me to the same thing he’s calling Jimmy to.”
“Perhaps not. That’s something you need to find out for sure before you marry him.”
“How do you stand all the sacrifices you have to make?” The words shot out like a cannonball from a cannon. Cici covered her mouth with her fingers. “Oh, Mama, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout.”
“Cecilia, I have never considered anything I’ve done for God and His people to be a sacrifice. To me, it has always been a work of love.”
Cici stared at her mother’s serene face for a moment. She meant it. This was true love. Her mother’s love for her God and her husband. Oh, how she wished she could be like that. Why wasn’t she? She’d been raised by God-fearing, wonderful parents who had taught her all about the love of Christ. And they hadn’t just taught her with words. They’d taught her with their own lives. What was wrong with her that she wasn’t like them?
“Cecilia, is there something else you’re not telling me?” Worry sounded in her voice.
“Oh, Mama, I don’t know how you stand to see people hurting all the time. And some people are so mean. How do you deal with them?”
“Did something happen at the soup kitchen?” Mama took her hand and looked into her eyes. “Something did happen. Tell me.”
Starting at the beginning, Cici let it pour out. The hungry children, the mothers trying to keep starvation from the door, the lame boy and his angry father. Finally, she burst into tears. “I know I can’t stand it, Mama. How can I help people when I’m so weak?”
“Oh, honey, of course it’s difficult when you come face-to-face with the hard side of life.” She pulled Cici’s head over against her shoulder and smoothed her hair. “Perhaps I was wrong to shelter you so.”
“No, Mama, you weren’t wrong.” She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “We’d best finish the baking so we can get started on supper.”
Her mother smiled, but worry shadowed her eyes. “You’re right. We wouldn’t want your papa’s supper to be late.” She faced Cici. “You need to take all these concerns to God. He’s the only One who can give you the answers.”
Cici nodded and went to get the broom to clean the flour off the floor. Maybe if she tried harder, she could change. That was it. She hadn’t planned to go help out at the soup kitchen anymore, but she’d force herself to go. After all, if God saw she was trying, He’d help her. Wouldn’t He? And who knew? Maybe Jimmy would decide to go back to law school after all.
❧
Blake stood and paced the study. “And Cobb said it was an impression he got? He couldn’t give you anything specific to go on?”
“No.” Jimmy shook his head. “But Cobb’s not one to imagine things. And Sutton’s been like an idol to him. If he thinks Sutton’s up to something, I believe him.”
Blake nodded and leaned against his desk. “I’ve got a man following him. He hasn’t reported anything suspicious yet. We’ll have to keep our eyes open, too. I’m thinking about working at home until this is settled.”
“Good idea. I’d feel a lot better knowing you were here. What about your appointments?”
“I’m sure Dad won’t mind taking them. Or we can assign them to someone else. If anyone insists on seeing me personally, he or she will have to wait.” He sat behind his desk and leaned back. “I’m thinking of paying a personal visit to Sutton.”
Startled, Jimmy stood and leaned over the desk. “Don’t do that, Blake. First of all, we’re not sure where he’s staying. And second, you know what he’s capable of. You need to stay here and take care of Danni.”
Blake tossed him a side grin. “Okay. I won’t do anything stupid. But I suggest you don’t either.”
“It’s a deal. Let’s wait for Cobb or the detective to get more information then go from there. In the meantime, we’ll keep Danni safe.”
Blake sighed and stood. “I’d better tell her.”
Jimmy gave him a look of sympathy, glad he wasn’t the one who had to impart the disturbing news to his sister.
Lord, protect Danni. Don’t let that man get his hands on her.
As worried as Jimmy was about Danni, he could only imagine how hard it must be on Blake to know the man had evil plans against his wife.
Seventeen
The fishy smell permeating the building wasn’t bad at all. Cici chuckled as she stirred the pot of chowder. Amazing how quickly one could get accustomed to things. And to think, just a couple of weeks ago, she was ready to run away in hopeless tears.
A tap on the back window drew her attention and she grabbed a tin bowl from the shelf and filled it to the brim with the soup. She headed toward the window, snatching up a slab of bread she’d cut ahead of time.
Larry grinned and propped his crutch against the building so he could take the food she passed through the window. “Thanks, Miss Cici.”
“You are very welcome, Larry. Just leave the bowl and spoon on the window ledge when you’re finished.” She tousled his head and headed back to the stove.
“Cici, we need a refill.” Mrs. Baker’s granddaughter, Nancy, set an empty pot on the table beside the stove.
“All right. This is ready. I’ll help you carry.” She tossed the girl a thick rag and, with another, grabbed the handle on one side of the pot. Together they managed to carry it to the food line.
“Thank you, girls.” Mrs. Nelson smiled and motioned to the short line that scarcely reached the door. “Don’t bother to make another pot. This should be plenty.”
“Do you want me to start kitchen cleanup?”
“If you’ll take over here, I’ll do that. I need a change.” Blake’s mother wiped her sleeve across her face and stepped back from the long counter.
