Authors: Judith Pella
Ada sighed heavily. For the first time she realized how things were. She had laughed when Ellie mentioned Maggie’s interest in the minister. At the very most, Ada considered it to be a childish whim. Was it more? Did Maggie care more deeply about the minister than anyone imagined?
Making the moment even worse, Ada thought of Calvin’s warnings about getting too carried away with matchmaking. Had he been right? Were his dour predictions coming true, with their daughters caught in the midst of the storm?
Was Mother Newcomb right, as well?I ’d rather cut off my right arm than have to admit that, Ada thought. Maybe there was still time to repair the damage. Maybe she could clean up the mess before Mother Newcomb ever perceived a thing.
Ada put down the paring knife and headed toward the open back door. Maggie was nowhere in back, but as Ada walked along the side of the house, past the clothesline, and reached the corner of the house, she saw her daughter sitting on the willow swing. Her long legs were sprawled out in front of her, her arms hooked around each of the side ropes. Suddenly tears welled in Ada’s eyes. She recalled how often Maggie begged not to be treated like a child, and now Ada saw as clearly as if a fog were suddenly lifted that Maggie was indeed no more a child. Her lithe, mature body dwarfed the swing.
Ada remembered when Calvin had first hung that swing. Maggie had been about four years old and wanted desperately to join the older ones in using it, but the wooden slat seat was a little too high off the ground for her. She’d tried and tried until she finally heaved her little self into the swing. Ada wanted to forbid her to use the swing until she had grown a bit more, but Calvin said they better let her learn, because she was going to use it in spite of them. All that summer Ada feared Maggie would break a bone and had watched her like a hawk whenever she was on the swing.
Now look at her!
Ada dashed away the tears that spilled down her cheeks and approached the swing.
“Maggie, will you forgive me?”
“For what?” groused Maggie.
She never would make anything easy, but Ada knew she didn’t deserve a reprieve from her daughter.
“For not being sensitive to your feelings,” Ada replied. “I guess I didn’t think you’d mind my trying to get Ellie and the reverend time alone—” When Maggie opened her mouth to retort, Ada tried to anticipate her words. “I should have understood that you are indeed old enough to be part of this kind of thing, that you are old enough to understand. But, Maggie, can you try to understand me a little, as well?I t’s hard for a mother to let her children go. I could lose three of you just like that. And Georgie’s not far behind. I want to hold on to you as long as I can.”
“The chicks have got to leave the nest, Mama,” Maggie said, some of the ire gone from her voice.
“I know.” Ada came close to her daughter and placed an arm around her shoulders. “But to me it was just yesterday when your feet were swinging over the edge of this seat, twelve inches above the ground.I need some time to let reality sink in.”
“You don’t got much time, Mama.”
Ada’s heart lurched once again. “Are you sweet on someone, Maggie?”
“Maybe.”
“N-not the reverend?” Ada implored. She couldn’t help it. Was her heart merely set on Ellie having the minister, or was there something else?
“Would that be so terrible?”
“He’s quite a bit older than you.”
“Only a year more than Ellie.”
Ada knew the time had come. She could no longer impose her will on her children as she had when they were young.If Maggie loved the minister, Ada had to stand back. But she would do as she had when Maggie had learned to use the swing. She would remain close. She would be there to catch her if she should fall.
Riding down to Deer I sland two weeks later, Zack took stock of his situation. Now that he was working at the sawmill, he figured he could save up enough money in a couple of months to leave this place.
There was a way he could leave much earlier— But, no! He wasn’t a thief, and he wasn’t about to start with church money. Still, everyone around here talked a lot about God’s will. Maybe it was God’s will the money had fallen into his hands.
He thought about that deacons’ meeting he’d attended.
The main topic of discussion was a church building. They thought the time was right to begin serious fund-raising. They thought Zack’s youth and enthusiasm was just what they needed to inspire the folks of Maintown to open their purses. Zack had no problem with that. The building committee reported that they had found a nice piece of land for sale about a quarter-mile east of the Copeland place, on the opposite end of town from the schoolhouse. I t was a half-acre, and they could get it for two hundred fifty dollars. Actual building costs would be around four hundred with everyone pitching in on the work.
Then Calvin had slapped a leather wallet down on the table. “I think it is time we open an account at the St. Helens Bank and start collecting some interest on this.”
“How much do we have there?” Russell Belknap asked.
“A hundred and fifty dollars,” Calvin replied. “I don’t like to keep that much cash in the house.”
“Don’t care much for banks,” Hal Fergus said.
Apparently the men had had this same disagreement a year earlier, and that’s why nothing had been done about the money.
“I care less for some robbers absconding with it,” Calvin responded.
“There ain’t no robbers round here—”
“I heard someone broke into Dolman’s General Store just last week,” Nathan Parker said.
“Well, that’s St. Helens,” Fergus said, as if proving his point.
“I have a thought,” put inL ewis Arlington, who had returned recently from Rainier because now not one but two of his children were ill. “Don’t Arthur Brennan own that parcel? Maybe he’ll take the money as a down payment to make sure no one else gets the land.”
“No need,” said Nathan Parker, head of the building committee. “Arthur said if we want the land, all we have to do is shake on it, and it’s ours when we have the full amount. This money should be earning some interest. That’s how you do business.” He gave a pointed glance at Hal, who merely grunted in response.
Calvin knew the men looked up to Parker’s business savvy, since he was one of the richest fellows in town. He figured this was the best time to proceed and said, “Let’s put it to a vote.”
Last year, using a bank had been voted down, but this time putting the money in a savings account won by a narrow margin.
To Zack’s surprise, Calvin had more to say.
“Reverend L ocklin, could you take this to the bank when you go to Deer Island?”
“Me?”
Zack had truly tried to get out of it. He wanted no part in such a temptation, but all the other men were too busy to make a special trip to St. Helens, and he was headed in that direction anyway. Thus, the money had fallen into his hands. These men who didn’t trust banks had entrusted
him
with their church building fund!
In the end, Zack had succumbed to temptation. He did not have the money with him. He had buried it at the bottom of his—Locklin’s—trunk. He’d tell the deacons he had deposited it in the bank and make up some story about losing the receipt. He wasn’t intending to use that money, but he couldn’t let it go, either. He was going to keep it for an emergency in case he had to make a fast getaway. Then, just like everything else, he planned to pay it back someday. He may have once or twice rigged a game of poker or sold fake snake oil. He may have concocted one scheme or another to part a fool from his money, but he had never
taken
money from anyone. Most of the time they had been more than willing to give it. He figured he was doing them a service, teaching them to be more careful next time.
He was no thief! But that money weighed upon him like a specter haunting him, intruding even into his dreams. He was beginning to regret leaving it behind. He should have stuck with his original plan—hide out, make some money at the sawmill, and then, when he had a few dollars and the coast was clear, he could take off for California. That was still the plan. The other was . . . just in case.
Maybe it would be better for everyone if he did take that money and disappear. These people didn’t deserve a fake minister. But something more than needing a place to hide kept him here. Something in a blue calico dress with hair like the sun—she haunted his dreams as much as the ill-gotten church building fund. Ellie Newcomb was also another reason he should leave.
When he returned to Maintown after his circuit, Calvin accepted, without question, Zack’s story of losing the bank receipt. Why would they doubt him? He was the minister.
Maggie had seen William a few times since that day at the pond, but he wasn’t as available as he’d been, what with working at the sawmill now. Then he’d had his circuit, and Maggie had gone to Scappoose with her family for a couple of days to visit her grandparents. Besides all that, her mother kept her busy at home from sunup to sundown. Maybe Mama was purposefully trying to keep Maggie away from the minister.
Those few times she had seen William, they were never alone. They had chatted pleasantly but there were no more kisses. Just to spite Ellie, Maggie wanted to press William for some affirmation of his intentions. But she couldn’t bring herself to do it, and not because of Ellie—they were talking again; still the atmosphere between them was chilly. Maggie’s reluctance was because she really was not ready for marriage. She wanted to spite them all by snagging the minister, but down deep she knew she’d be hurting herself most of all.
Nevertheless, she was surprised when her mother sent her on an errand to the Copelands’. Of course, Mama probably realized the reverend would be working at the sawmill, so it would be safe to send her.
Maggie found Mrs. Copeland in the kitchen kneading bread dough.
“Mama sent me to fetch the reverend’s suit and a couple of other things for her to alter,” Maggie said.
“Can you go on up and get them, dear? My hands are a mess.”
“He told my mother he would set them out for her.”
“He didn’t leave anything down here. They must be in his room.” The woman smiled. “I’m sure he won’t mind if you go to his room.”
Maggie shrugged, not wanting to show her hesitance. Even with her modern thinking, it seemed improper to go into a man’s room. The last and only time she had been there was on that first day when half the townsfolk were present, as well. She climbed the stairs and opened the door, feeling almost as though she were entering the Holy of Holies.
Reverend Locklin’s room was tidy. She wondered if Mrs. Copeland cleaned it, or if he kept it that way. She looked around and decided it wasn’t just tidy.I t looked hardly lived in. Well, with working at the mill and riding the circuit, he didn’t really spend a great deal of time here. Only the little desk held any personal items—a few books, paper, and pen he must use for preparing his sermons.
The quilt was neatly spread out upon the bed. She had to walk around to the other side to find her block on the part that hung over the side of the bed—the best place to hide a poorly made block. And that block no doubt represented her best work! Maybe she would have done a better job if she’d known William at the time, but most likely this was the best she could ever do.
She looked around, hoping to find a neat stack of clothes ready for her to take, but there was nothing. She thought of Boyd and Georgie’s room and how it defied even Mama’s constant nagging to stay clean. There were always clothes strewn everywhere. She opened the wardrobe and found both broadcloth suits hanging. She took the one that still needed altering, folded it, and laid it on the bed. I n the dresser drawers were clothes that had already been fixed.
She saw the trunk, and it seemed logical that he’d keep clothing he wasn’t wearing in there. She was reluctant to open it but at the same time very curious. She realized she knew precious little about William. He’d only spoken of his life that once at the pond, and he had seemed reticent about it once he realized what he was saying. Shouldn’t she know more about him if she thought she might marry him?
The answer seemed clear to her as she lifted open the lid of the trunk. Right on top, some clothing lay neatly folded. She could have stopped there but knew she wouldn’t. She put a pair of trousers and a shirt on the bed with the suit. Then returning to the trunk, she moved aside the other clothing. On the bottom of the trunk she saw several books, among them
Leather Stocking Tales
and
The Last of the Mohicans
by James Fenimore Cooper. Maggie had read these herself, though her mother had said they were not proper reading for a young lady. Another was
Moby Dick
by a person named Herman Melville. Maggie hadn’t heard of this one. She picked it up and glanced at the first chapter. I t looked interesting but again probably not appropriate for a girl. She recalled what William had said about a sea adventure on the Pacific Coast, how he’d first said it was his experience, then recanted.
Somehow she thought these books odd for William. These were adventure stories, and though he’d never said anything to indicate otherwise, she had the impression he was a man of the world, a man who lived adventure rather than reading about it. Moreover, she had never seen him read a book for pleasure or even talk of books.
Moving aside some of the books, she found the real prize. A daguerreotype of three people, two older, probably parents, and one younger male, probably sixteen or seventeen years old. Were these William’s family? His parents and brother perhaps? None of them looked like William. They were fairer of skin and hair than he was. Maggie turned over the picture. On the back were the words, “Mama, Papa, and William.”
That was strange. Perhaps they were aunt and uncle and cousin. He’d never said anything about relatives he was especially close to, but that was possible. Maybe they raised him. Maybe he was adopted. But to have a brother, a cousin, or adopted brother with the same name?
Replacing this, she saw a larger paper, a certificate of some kind.L ifting it out, to her astonishment she saw what was clearly a ministerial license naming William Edward L ocklin as the licensee. This had to be the very license William had told Mrs. Briggs he did not have! Perhaps he had just received it and was going to surprise the congregation with an announcement on Sunday. But why was it tucked at the bottom of the trunk?