The Miracle, page 15
“I’ll make it up to you, Owen. You come over for dinner Sunday.
I’ll fix you something better than I had in that box.”
Chapter 13
A throbbing headache troubled Owen all weekend, and on Monday he found it necessary to have Doctor Givens take three stitches above his eye. The doctor was of the old school opinion that people should be willing to suffer when they were fools, so he did not go easy on Owen. He also left the ends of the gut showing, which set off the delicate shades of lavender and purple on Owen’s face.
By ten o’clock Owen had grown weary of people asking him about the fight. Some were a little bit sophisticated, going at the thing as tactfully as they could. Others simply blurted out, “How’d you get your face busted up, Doc?”
By noon the headache partly mitigated, and as he passed through the outer office he said, “I’m going to get a bite to eat, Bertha.”
Bertha Pickens looked up and said without a change of expression, “ ‘Whatsoever a man soweth that shall he also reap.’ ”
“I didn’t sow anything, Bertha. I’ve tried to explain to you it wasn’t my fault.”
Bertha had the irritating habit of answering with verses of Scripture. Without missing a beat, she said, “ ‘Why do the heathen rage and the people imagine a vain thing?’ ”
Owen tried to think what in the world that Scripture could have to do with his getting punched in the face. Sometimes Bertha simply quoted a Scripture that popped into her mind whether it had any relevance to the situation or not. “Thank you, Bertha. I’ll remember that.”
Leaving the office, he headed straight to the Dew Drop Inn. Before he went in he braced himself. Whatever he might find in the way of something to eat, he knew he would also find something else in a plentiful supply: the nosy curiosity of proprietors and customers. For a moment he considered going to the grocery store and getting some sardines and crackers, but given the way his head felt, the effort might take more starch than he could muster. Bracing himself, he entered. As usual, at noon, the Dew Drop Inn was full.
“Hey, you can come and sit by me, Doc.”
Owen looked up to see Dorsey Pender in his postal uniform sitting at a booth with Pardue Jessup and Nelson Prather. Making his way to their table, he sat down heavily. “How are you fellows?”
“Better than you are, it looks like, Doc,” Pardue said, grinning broadly.
“I hear you got your ticket punched by Luke Satterfield,” Dorsey Pender said, his eyes bright with anticipation. “It ain’t smart to mess with a fellow like that. How come you do it, Doc?”
“I was just out looking for trouble. I’d had too much to drink, and I wanted to get in a fight and get arrested,” Owen said loudly.
Pardue laughed with delight. “Doc, you’re not a truthful man at times, are you?”
“I just get tired of telling the same story, Pardue.”
Sister Myrtle made her way to the table. As usual, she had a word of correction for Owen, but then she had instructions and warnings for practically everybody that entered the Dew Drop Inn.
“I guess you see now what comes of going to them dances, Doctor Owen Merritt. Nothing but sin, that’s what it is.”
“Lay it on me, Sister Myrtle,” Owen said and suddenly found it amusing, which was good. He had found very little to be amusing since Luke Satterfield knocked him silly. “I’m just a sinner and need to repent. Get on with the sermon.”
Sister Myrtle sniffed. “You can make fun all you want, but I’m downright disappointed in you.”
“Well, the way I heard it,” Nellie Prather said, “the doctor here didn’t have no choice. He didn’t even get a blow in.”
“That’s what you want to learn about fighting, Doc.” Ed Hath-cock, chief of police, looked up from his meal and grinned. “Always get the first blow in. Luke, he learned that lesson pretty good.”
“Thanks for the advice, Chief. I’ll remember that.”
Owen sat there enduring the conversation until Dorsey Pender reached over and fished through his mailbag. “I got an important letter for you, Doc. Here it is. All the way from St. Louis.” He handed it to Owen and waited.
“How do you know it’s important?” Owen asked. “You don’t know what’s in there.”
“Well, if it comes from St. Louis, it has to be important.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard,” Nellie sniffed. “I don’t know of anything important coming out of St. Louis.” Nellie reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a matchbox. He handed it over to Merritt and said, “Here, Doc. I found it this morning and I thought about you.”
Owen took the box, opened it, and smiled at Nellie. “Four-leaf clover. Supposed to be good luck.”
“Ain’t no ‘supposed to be’ to it. Why, when Adam and Eve was kicked out of Eden, she grabbed a four-leaf clover.”
“I never knew that,” Owen said with a straight face. “It’s not in any of the books of theology I’ve ever read.”
“Well, it’s so. Anyhow, let me tell you how to handle this. It ain’t enough just to have a four-leaf clover. You got to do it right.”
“How do I do it right?”
“Well, one way is to pin it over the door to your house. Don’t use tape, Doc. That might break the charm. There’s something about the clover touching metal,” Nellie said earnestly, “that makes the charm work. Or you might put it in your shoe. There’s some that say if you do that, the first unmarried person you meet the next day will be the one you marry. But that’s kind of dangerous.”
“Yeah, you might meet Minnie Hoffmeyer. That woman’s so skinny she could take a bath in a gun barrel,” Dorsey guffawed.
Owen was accustomed to Nellie Prather’s fierce superstitions and liked the big man immensely. “Thank you, Nellie,” he said. “I’ll tack this to my door tonight.”
“What about that letter?” Dorsey demanded. “It might be bad news.” Somehow Dorsey Pender had come to the conclusion that the mail was his because he was the one who delivered it. He did everything but demand to see what was inside the letters he delivered.
“How could it be bad news when I just got a four-leaf clover?”
Somehow Owen managed to fend off the mailman’s questions, but when he left the Dew Drop Inn, the first thing he did was open the letter and read it.
His day suddenly brightened, and he almost shouted, “Good news!” as he ran to his car.
“It’s the doctor,” Corliss cried, and she flew out the door to meet Owen.
Lanie watched through the window as Owen grabbed Corliss, kissed her on the cheek, and gave her a hug. It pleased her that he was so partial to Corliss, but he always had been. She ran her hand over her hair and thought, Why does he always have to come when I’m at my worst?
“Hello, Lanie. I’m about to spoil this young lady rotten.”
“What’s rotten?” Corliss wrinkled her nose.
“It means I’m about to take some candy out of my pocket and give it to you.” Owen pulled out a Baby Ruth and handed it to her.
“There. That’ll spoil your appetite. Be good for you.”
“And spoil me rotten?”
“I don’t think that’s possible after all,” he said, ruffling her hair. Then he turned to Lanie. “I’ve got some real good news.” He took a letter out of his pocket and said, “I’ve heard from John Smith, my friend in St. Louis. I want you to read it.”
Lanie took the letter, her hands unsteady. Good news came rarely to her, it seemed, and when she read the letter suddenly tears filled her eyes. “This is wonderful, Owen. It’s all your doing.”
“Not at all. It’s John’s doing.” He took the letter and read it aloud:“ ‘I believe I can help the young man you spoke of. Why don’t you send him here as quick as you can. I have a place for him to stay and there’ll be no charges.’ ”
“He needs to go at once,” Owen said.
“It’ll be expensive. I’ll have to see about the money.” Owen started to speak, but she held up her hand. “No,” she said, “I’m not going to let you pay for it.”
“Well, I’ll see about the fares. He can go on the train or on the bus.”
“You’re too good to us, Owen Merritt.”
Owen was embarrassed by her words. “Not at all,” he said and started toward the door. “I’ve got to go. There are still a few people who haven’t asked me how I got my face bloodied. Maybe I ought to just put the story in the paper.”
“I’m so sorry it happened.”
“Have you heard about what Logan’s doing?”
“He came by to see Maeva and said he was going to cut timber for George Meeny.”
“That was terrible — that his father threw him out.”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s better off. He told Maeva he was sick of bootlegging anyway and wanted to be an honest man.”
“Well, sometimes bad things turn out well. I’ve got to find him and thank him for saving me from some broken ribs.”
“He’s staying with his friend Neal Jamison.”
“I’ll go by and check on him.” He hesitated for a moment, and then said, “I’ll be praying that John will be able to help Davis. Somehow I think he will.”
As soon as Maeva heard about Davis’s trip to St. Louis, she began to scheme. She said nothing to Lanie, but she was determined to make the trip with Davis. Finally, after thinking hard about it, she came in late for supper on Tuesday to find the family already eating.
“Where have you been, Maeva?” Lanie said. “You were supposed to help me cook tonight.”
Ignoring her sister, Maeva said, “I’m going to St. Louis with Davis.”
Davis looked up, surprised. “Well, there’s not even enough money for me to go.”
“We don’t have to worry about that,” Maeva said. “I went down to talk to Walt Fletcher.”
“The one that sells used cars?” Cody asked.
“That’s right. I talked him into letting us use one of his cars. It’s a nice one. All it’ll cost us is the gas money, and we’ve got that much.”
“You can’t run off and go to St. Louis,” Lanie said.
“I’m going, Lanie. That’s all there is to it. This’ll be the cheapest way for us to go.”
Maeva argued her cause, but Lanie remained opposed to the idea.
Finally Davis said, “Let her go, Lanie. It was her idea. Besides, I can use a little encouragement on the way.”
Lanie had not thought of this. She hesitated and then said, “All right. Maybe it would be best.”
“We’ll leave Saturday morning,” Maeva said, her face lighting up. “Next week is our spring break anyway, so we won’t miss any school. After we see the doctor and get you all fixed up, maybe we can explore St. Louis a bit.”
Davis shook his head. “We won’t have any money for that.”
“It doesn’t cost anything to look.”
The Wednesday night prayer meeting was abuzz with the news that Davis was going to St. Louis to see some specialist. The family filed down the aisle and sat in a row with Cody at one end. As soon as he was settled he looked over the congregation, a satisfied expression brightening his face.
Davis, who was sitting next to him, said, “Why you looking so funny?”
“I’m not looking funny. I just got a message from heaven.”
Maeva, who was sitting on the other side of Davis, leaned forward and gave Cody a crooked grin. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“You don’t understand things like this, Maeva. We’ve got to do something about Lanie.”
“What do you mean?” Davis asked, looking puzzled.
“It’s worrying her to death, this business with the Oz family.”
“You’re right about that,” Maeva said. “But what are we going to do?”
“Here’s what the Lord wants us to do. All three of us need to go over right now to the Oz family and tell ’em we’re sorry for what happened.”
“I think that’s a good idea,” Davis said at once.
Maeva frowned and started to argue, but Cody beat her to it. “I know it’s hard for you to say you’re sorry. It’s hard for me too, but we’re doing it for Lanie. Okay?”
Maeva swallowed hard, then shrugged her shoulders. “All right.
Let’s go get it done then.”
The three got out of their seats, and everyone in the congregation stopped talking as they went over to where the Oz family was sitting. There was a stubborn look on each of their faces, but Cody took the lead. “Mr. and Mrs. Oz, I want to tell you I’m sorry about what happened. I really regret it.”
Davis stepped up at once. “Me too. It was the wrong thing. I was wrong, and I apologize to you, Mr. Oz, Mrs. Oz, and to all three of you.”
Maeva plunged in next. Her voice was loud and clear. “I don’t apologize much,” she said loudly, “but I think it’s wrong for Christians to fuss in church. I was wrong to fight, and I’m sorry, and I hope you’ll accept my apology.”
At once a loud buzz carried through the church, and Lanie, who had watched this drama unfold, was shocked. She would never have dreamed Maeva would apologize to anyone ever.
Harry Oz jumped to his feet. “That’s a handsome apology, and I’m proud of you kids.”
Maxine Oz, Harry’s wife, was flustered, but seemed relieved. “My husband’s right. I’m sorry it all happened, and I’m glad it’s over.”
Lolean Oz was the same age as Cody. She had a wealth of auburn hair, large green eyes, and was just coming into young womanhood. Suddenly she stood up in front of Cody and said, “Cody Freeman, I’m tired of being mad. I always liked you.” Without apology, she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “There,” she said, laughing when Cody’s face turned red, “the Bible says to greet the brethren with a holy kiss.”
Laughter swept through the church, mixing with sighs of relief. Everyone, it seemed, was tired of the feud.
Now they waited to see Cody’s response.
Not often was Cody Freeman struck speechless, but for this moment he was. He stared at the handsome young woman in front of him and tried to think of something profound to say. Finally he said, “Well, I’ll be dipped in gravy!”
PART THREE
Lies and Scandal
Chapter 14
The family gathered to see off Maeva and Davis early Saturday morning. As their car disappeared around the bend, Lanie sighed and headed for the barn. While her siblings traveled to St. Louis, she would spend the day restocking the Freeman Rolling Emporium.
Stocking the emporium had become a very trying labor. Lanie had discovered that people wanted all sorts of things, but it was not possible to carry them all. Now she stood in the aisle holding a box of salt in one hand and a box of starch in the other, trying to decide which one she would take.
“As sure as I take the starch, somebody will want the salt and I won’t have it,” she muttered. Finally she moved items around until she squeezed both into the small space and then stepped back and eyed the rows. A sense of pride came to her as she studied the arrangements. She knew where to find even the most obscure, tiny item whether it was on top, behind something else, or shoved into the small side pockets.
The emporium had not brought in as much money as she had hoped, but still she was optimistic. Now that winter was almost over, she planned to drive the route herself, or send someone, every day.
She stepped outside the emporium just as a noisy flock of crows wheeled across the blue skies. They rent the air with raucous voices then, as if they had a single mind, suddenly wheeled again and headed for the cornfields on the outskirts of town.
Cody had been splitting wood for the stove, and now he was just sitting there on the chopping block stump staring off into space.
She walked over to him. “What are you thinking about, Cody?You’re sitting there still as a statue.”
Cody sighed heavily and turned to face his sister. He was a fine-looking boy, growing taller, and getting to look more like his father every day. He would never be as tall as Davis, but there was some of Forrest Freeman in him, all right.
“I was just meditating.”
“Meditating about what?”
“About life and stuff like that.”
Lanie laughed and ruffled Cody’s hair. “You’re a deep thinker, you are, brother. Let’s go inside and see if we can find something to eat.”
“You go on. I’ve got a few more things I’ve got to get straight before I go anywhere.”
“All right. If you need any help meditating, come and get me.”
Leaving Cody to his meditation, she walked across the yard and mounted the steps to the front porch. As she opened the door, she heard Corliss banging on the piano with her stubby fingers. Amazingly enough, she could pick out tunes, and Lanie recognized “My Time Is Your Time,” which had been made famous by a radio crooner named Rudy Vallee. Lanie shook her head with amazement. The child had more musical talent than all the rest of the Freemans put together.
She found Aunt Kezia sitting in her rocker in the living room, staring out the window. She was very still and her eyes were half shut.
“Are you asleep, Aunt Kezia?”
The old woman came bolt upright. “Asleep? No, I weren’t asleep.
What makes you think such a thing?”
Lanie sat down beside her aunt and put her hand on Kezia’s thin shoulder. She realized afresh how fragile her aunt was, and thoughts of mortality touched her heart with a cold chill. She had grown to love this old woman who had come to their rescue. Her querulous ways and odd manner of speaking mattered not a whit. Lanie squeezed Aunt Kezia’s shoulder and said, “Do you still miss your husband?”
Kezia turned her face toward Lanie. Her eyes were still a startling bright blue despite her wrinkles and shrunken body. “Every day of my life I miss my second husband. I’ve about forgot the first one, and the last one I’m trying hard to forget.”
“Tell me some more about Mr. Butterworth.”
