Chapter 7 #2
She hesitated again, and then she winced as Sister Matthews began cleaning the bottoms of her feet. “Hattie,” she finally said.
“Hattie. A nice name. I’m Sister Matthews, and this is Ben. Ben, bring the light closer, please.”
He did as he was told, and his stomach turned. There was hardly any skin left on the soles of her feet. What had happened to her?
Sister Matthews clucked her tongue. “These are pretty bad. How about the rest of you? Any other major wounds I need to know about?”
“Just cuts and scrapes. I’ll be fine.” Hattie braced herself awkwardly against the end of the pew, still looking like she might run away if Sister Matthews let go of her foot long enough.
“Well, we’ll do our very best. It’s going to take a lot of care and plenty of prayer, as I like to say. Fresh bandages every day.”
Hattie only frowned.
“What brings you to our lovely little church?” Sister Matthews asked. She sounded like she was having an easy conversation over a cup of tea. “I like to think it’s one of the best churches in Arizona, but we’re not exactly on the beaten path.”
Hattie turned her head away. “I’d really rather not say.”
“As you wish,” Sister Matthews said with a nod. “The more I know, the more I can help. That’s all.”
“I just—ah!” Hattie hissed, her foot jerking back as Sister Matthews pulled a long sliver from her heel. “I just can’t let anyone know where I am. I’m sorry.”
Sister Matthews lifted her head. She studied Hattie carefully for a long moment. “There’s no need to apologize, child. I believe that God brings us where we’re supposed to be at any given moment. He has plans for us that we can’t know or understand.”
Ben handed Sister Matthews the tweezers and bandages that she requested during the exchange, but he couldn’t quite take his eyes off of Hattie. Her eyes locked with his at one point, and she lifted a brow in defiance. He quickly looked away, but he only looked back again a few seconds later.
“You should stay here for a while,” Sister Matthews said as she carefully wound strips of linen around Hattie’s feet.
“These bandages will need to be changed. You’ve lost a lot of blood, I’d say, so you’ll need to get plenty of food and water in you to replace that. I’ll have Ben make up a bed for you.”
“No!” Hattie pulled her feet out of Sister Matthews hands and huddled in the corner of the pew. “I can’t. It’s kind of you to offer, but…I just can’t.”
“There is no better place to heal than in the house of the Lord. Ours is a humble home, but we’re glad to share it with you,” Sister Matthews told her.
“Ben, go wake Father Tillman and let him know we have a guest. He can show you where the linens are—we’ve moved them since you were here last—and help you make up a bed. ”
Uncertainty rushed through him. Hattie didn’t want to stay, but she needed to. He nodded and went back into the chapel.
It didn’t take much to wake Father Tillman. “I thought I heard some commotion,” he said as he came out into the hall, belting his robe. “What seems to be the matter?”
Ben did his best to explain. “Her name is Hattie, but she won’t say where she’s from or why she’s here. She’s in bad shape, Father Tillman. Very bad shape.”
The older man stuck out his lips in concern as he led the way to a small closet near the pantry that must’ve been built after Ben had left for the army. He opened it and began loading Ben’s arms with linens. “Perhaps she’ll tell us in time.”
“You aren’t worried?” he asked, following the priest to a small room off the kitchen. A narrow bed was pushed up against the wall, but the rest of the room was full of boxes.
“She’s a young woman all on her own, you say?
No. She must be very desperate indeed if she’s found her way to us, out here in the middle of nowhere.
With all the injuries you’ve told me about, she must have been through hell and back.
” Father Tillman grabbed the corners of a sheet and flipped it into the air, letting it fall smoothly to the bed.
The finger-like bruises on Hattie’s arm came to Ben’s mind. Who had done that to her? How could she have made it all the way to St. Thomas all alone?
“I don’t know if she’ll actually stay. She seemed eager to leave.” Ben handed him the blanket.
One corner of Father Tillman’s mouth tipped up in a smile. “And so were you, just last evening. You sat at the dining table looking like a caged rabbit, ready to spring out and run free again.”
Ben’s throat tightened. Had everyone been able to read him so easily? “I don’t mean to be ungrateful.”
“No, no.” Father Tillman smoothed his palm over the blanket.
“Believe it or not, I remember what it was like to be your age. It’s difficult.
You’re a man, but a new one. You still have a lot to learn, a lot to figure out for yourself.
If we can be part of that—for you or for this young lady—then it makes my heart happy. ”
Ben slipped a case onto the pillow. “Thank you.”
“None is needed, but you’re welcome. The Lord teaches us to give generously, and He doesn’t mean money. We should give of ourselves, our time, our resources. We never know who we might truly be helping along the way.”
Ben nodded. Father Tillman was right, and that was exactly why Ben had let Hattie into the church in the first place. “I just wish I knew what had happened to her.”
“Perhaps, in due time, she’ll tell us.” With the bed finished, Father Tillman turned to look at the boxes stacked across from it. “Help me carry a few of these to my room. It doesn’t seem right to make anyone feel as though they’re sleeping in a storage closet.”
“But then won’t you feel that way?” Ben asked as he bent down and hefted one of the boxes into his arms.
Father Tillman laughed. “I’ve slept in much worse places than that! Now then, let’s move quietly so we don’t wake the children.”