Kelly dipped her hand into the deep apron pocket where she kept her drawing tablet. At least one good thing had happened this morning. She’d gotten up early and painted a couple of pictures, using her homemade watercolors. The first one was another pose of the mules, only now they were coffee colored, not black. The second picture was of a sunset, with pink, orange, and yellow hues, all because of her vegetable watercolors. She was proud of her accomplishment and could hardly wait to show the pictures to Mike.
“I think I’ll head over to his store right now,” Kelly said, giving Hector a pat, so he wouldn’t feel left out. The mule brayed and nudged her affectionately. Herman and Hector really were her best friends.
A short time later, Kelly entered Mike’s store. He was busy waiting on a customer—Mrs. Harris, one of the lock tenders’ wives. Kelly waited patiently over by the candy counter. It was tempting to spend some of her money on more lemon drops, but she reminded herself that she still had a few pieces of candy tucked safely away inside the trunk at the foot of her bed. She would wait until those were gone before she considered buying any more.
“Can I help you with something?” Lost in her thoughts, Kelly hadn’t realized Mike had finished with his customer and now stood at her side. She drew in a deep breath as the fresh scent of soap reminded her of Mike’s presence. He always smelled so clean and unsullied. His nearness sent unwanted tingles along her spine, and she forced herself to keep from trembling.
“I wanted to see what you thought of these.” Kelly held out her drawing tablet to Mike.
He studied the first painting of Herman and Hector, done with coffee water. “Hmm ... not bad. Not bad at all.” Then he turned to the next page, and his mouth fell open. “Kelly, how did you make such beautiful colors?”
She giggled, feeling suddenly self-conscious. “I poured boiling water over some carrots, onions, and a beet; then I let it stand all night. This mornin’, I had some colored water to paint with.”
Mike grinned from ear to ear. “That’s really impressive. I’m proud of you, Kelly.”
Proud of me?
Had she heard Mike right? In all her seventeen years, Kelly didn’t remember anyone ever saying they were proud of anything she’d done. She felt the heat of a blush creep up her neck and flood her entire face. “It was nothin’ so special.”
“Oh, but it was,” Mike insisted. “My idea of using coffee water was okay, and your picture of the mules is good, but you took it even further by coming up with a way to make more colors.” He lifted the drawing tablet. “You’ve captured a sunset beautifully.”
She smiled, basking in his praise. If only Mama and Papa would say things to encourage her the way Mike did. Mama said very little, and Papa either yelled or criticized.
“I think I’ll come up with a better way to display your artwork,” Mike announced.
“Oh? What’s that?”
“I’m going to make a wooden frame for each of your pictures, and then I’ll hang them right there.” He pointed to the wall directly behind the counter where he waited on customers. “Nobody will leave my store without first seeing your talented creations.”
Talented creations? First Mike had said he was proud of her, and now he’d called her talented. It was almost too much for Kelly to accept. Did he really mean those things, or was he only trying to be nice because he felt sorry for her? She hoped it wasn’t the latter, for she didn’t want anyone’s pity.
“Kelly, did you hear what I said?”
She jerked her head toward Mike. “What did ya say?”
“I asked if you thought framing the pictures would be a good idea.”
She nodded. “I suppose so. It’s worth a try if you want to go to all that trouble.”
“I like working with my hands, so it won’t be any trouble at all.” Mike looked down at the tablet he still held. “Mind if I take the two colored pictures out now?”
“It’s fine by me,” she replied, feeling a sense of excitement. “If we stay around here another day or so, maybe I can get a few more drawings done.”
He smiled and moved toward the counter. Kelly followed. “That would be great. I hope you do stay around a bit longer—for more reasons than one.”
***
Mike felt such exuberance over Kelly’s new pictures done on newsprint, not to mention the news of her staying for another day or so. He’d been asking God to give him the chance to get to know Kelly better, and it looked as if he might get that opportunity. But he did feel bad that her father was losing money because of the mule’s leg. If there was some way he could offer financial assistance, he would, but Mike knew it wouldn’t be appreciated. Amos McGregor was a proud man. He’d made that abundantly clear on several occasions.
“Guess I should get goin’,” Kelly announced. “Papa left me to tend Herman’s leg, and that was some time ago. He’ll probably come a-lookin’ for me if I don’t get back to the boat pretty soon.”
Mike carefully removed Kelly’s finished pictures and handed her the tablet. “Keep up the good work, and when you get more paintings done, bring them into the store.” He chuckled. “If you give me enough, I’ll line every wall with your artwork. Then folks won’t have any choice but to notice. And if they notice, they’re bound to buy.”
Kelly snickered, and her face turned crimson. “I like you, Mike Cooper.” With that, she turned around and bounded out the door.
Mike flopped down on his wooden stool. “She likes me. Kelly actually said she likes me.”
***
It took three days before Herman’s leg was well enough so he could walk without limping. Even then, Papa had said at breakfast that they’d be taking it slow and easy. “No use pushin’ things,” he told Kelly and her mother. “Wouldn’t want Herman to reinjure his leg.”
As Kelly connected the towline to the mules’ harnesses, a sense of sadness washed over her soul. These last few days had been so nice, being in one place all the time, visiting with Mike Cooper whenever she had the chance, and painting pictures. She’d used up all her homemade watercolors and would need to make more soon. Kelly figured as she journeyed up the towpath she might come across some plants, tree bark, or leaves she could steep in hot water to make other colors. It would be an adventure to see how many hues she could come up with.
“You all set?” Papa called from the boat.
Kelly waved in response, her signal that she was ready to go. She’d only taken a few steps when she heard someone holler, “Kelly, hold up a minute, would you?”
She whirled around. Mike Cooper was heading her way, holding something in his hands.
Kelly stopped the mules, but Papa shouted at her to get them going again. She knew she’d better keep on walking or suffer the consequences. “I’ve gotta go,” she announced when Mike caught up to her. “Papa’s anxious to head out.”
“I’ll walk with you a ways,” he said.
“What about your store?”
“I haven’t opened for the day yet.”
Kelly clicked her tongue, and the mules moved forward. Then she turned to face Mike as she moved along. The item he held in his hand was a wooden picture frame, and inside was her sunset watercolor.
“What do you think?” Mike asked as she looked at the piece of artwork.
“You did a fine job makin’ that frame.”
He laughed. “The frame’s nothing compared to the beauty of your picture, but it does show off your work really well, don’t you think?”
Kelly nodded but kept on walking. If she stopped, the mules would, too.
“When do you think you’ll be coming by my store again?” Mike asked.
She shrugged her shoulders. “Can’t say for sure. Since Papa lost so much time because of his cough and Herman’s leg gettin’ cut, he probably won’t make any stops that aren’t absolutely necessary.”
“Guess we could always pray he knocks a few more bars of soap overboard.”
Kelly snickered. “With the way things have been goin’ these days, Papa would probably expect me to jump in the canal and fetch ’em back out.”
Mike reached out and touched Kelly’s arm. She felt a jolt and wondered if he had, too.
“I’m sorry you have to work so hard, Kelly,” he murmured. She nodded and kept moving forward. “I’m used to it, but someday, when I make enough money of my own, I won’t be Papa’s slave no more.”
“I’m sure he doesn’t see you as his slave.”
She snorted. “I don’t get paid for walkin’ the mules. Not one single penny had I ever made ’til you sold my two drawings.” She glanced at Mike out of the corner of her eye and noticed his shocked expression.
“That will change,” he said with a note of conviction. “By the time you stop at my store again, I’m sure several more of your pictures will be gone.”
They were coming to a bend in the canal, and Kelly and the mules would be tromping across the changing bridge soon. Kelly knew it was time to tell Mike good-bye, although she hated to see him go. She was beginning to see Mike Cooper as a friend.
“Guess I’d better head back and open up the store,” Mike said, “but I wanted to ask you something before you crossed to the other side.”
“Oh? What’s that?”
“I was wondering if you’ve ever accepted Christ as your personal Savior. You know—asked Him to forgive your sins and come live in your heart?”
“I did that when I was twelve years old,” she said as a lump formed in her throat. Why was Mike asking about her relationship to God, and why was she getting all choked up over a simple good-bye? She’d be seeing Mike again; she just didn’t know when.
Mike took hold of Kelly’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. She glanced back at the boat, hoping Papa couldn’t see what was going on.
“I’m awful glad to hear you’re a believer. See you soon, Kelly,” he whispered.
“I hope so,” Kelly said; then she hurried on.
***
Mike stood watching Kelly until she and the mules disappeared around the bend. She looked so forlorn when they parted. Was she going to miss him as much as he would miss her? He hoped so. These last few days had been wonderful, with her popping into the store a couple of times and the two of them meeting outside on several occasions. Mike felt as though he were beginning to know Kelly better, and he liked what he’d discovered. Not only was the young woman a talented artist, but she was clever. She had figured out how to make her own watercolors, and Mike had a hunch she would probably have come up with even more colors by the time he saw her again.
“Sure hope I’ve sold some of her artwork by then,” he muttered as he turned toward his store. “I can’t keep buying them myself, and I wouldn’t want Kelly to find out about the two I did pay for.”
An image of Kelly lying on the patchwork quilt they’d used at the Sunday picnic flashed across Mike’s mind. If Betsy hadn’t been there, he might have taken a chance and kissed his sleeping beauty, for he was quickly losing his heart to Kelly McGregor.
***
Kelly had to hold up the mules at the changing bridge, as two other boats passed and their mules went over. While she waited, she decided to take advantage of the time, so she reached into her apron pocket and pulled out her drawing pad and a stick of charcoal. Kelly had just begun to sketch the boat ahead of her when Reverend Nelson and his daughter came walking up the towpath.
“Good morning,” the preacher said. “It’s a fine day, wouldn’t you say?”
Kelly nodded in reply.
“Daddy and I are walking a stretch of the towpath today,” Betsy remarked. “We’re calling at people’s homes who live near the canal, as well as visiting with those we meet along the way.” She stuck out her hand and waved a piece of paper in front of Kelly’s face. “We’re handing these out. Would you like one?”
“What is it?” Kelly asked.
“It’s a verse of scripture,” Reverend Nelson answered before his daughter could respond.
Kelly took the Bible verse with a mumbled thanks, then stuffed it into her apron pocket. She would look at it later.
“What’s that you’re drawing?” the pastor asked.
“One of the canal boats.”
Reverend Nelson glanced at her tablet and smiled. “It’s a good likeness.”
Kelly shrugged her shoulders. “I’ve only just begun.”
“Betsy has one of your drawings. It’s quite well done, considering what you have to work with.”
Kelly’s mouth dropped open. Betsy had one of her drawings? But how? A light suddenly dawned. The preacher’s daughter must have gone into Mike’s store and purchased one of Kelly’s pictures. She smiled at Betsy and asked, “Which one did you buy?”
Betsy’s pale eyebrows drew together as she frowned. “The picture is of a couple children fishing on the canal, but I didn’t buy it.”
“You didn’t?”
Betsy shook her head. “Mike Cooper gave it to me as a birthday present. A few weeks ago he came over to our house for supper and to help me celebrate. He presented it to me then.”
Kelly felt as though someone had punched her in the stomach. If Mike had given one of the drawings away, then he must have bought it himself. Her fingers coiled tightly around the piece of charcoal she still held in her hand. Who had bought the other picture Mike had paid her for? Was it him? He hadn’t actually said so, but he’d given her the impression that he’d sold the pictures to some customers who’d come into the store.
The ground beneath her feet began to rumble as a steam train lumbered past. Billows of smoke from the burning coal poured into the sky, leaving a dark, sooty trail.
“Guess we’d better be moving on,” the preacher said with a wave of his hand.
Kelly nodded. Her heart was hammering in her chest like the
clickety-clack
of the train’s wheels against the track.
Just wait until I drop by Mike’s store again,
she fumed
. I’m gonna give that man a piece of my mind, and that’s for certain sure!
***
For the rest of the day Kelly fretted about the pictures Mike had supposedly sold. At supper that night, she was in a sour mood and didn’t feel much like eating, even though Mama had made Irish stew, a favorite with both Kelly and her dad.
“What was that storekeeper doing, walkin’ along the towpath with you this mornin’?” Papa asked, sending Kelly a disgruntled look.