Chapter 6 #6
"Coming?" her mother asked.
"Of course."
Mercy drew a breath and turned toward the church, though a part of her regretted that she hadn’t spoken to him.
As Mercy and her mother walked toward their usual pew near the front of the sanctuary, she spotted Wilson sitting in a pew near the rear.
She had the vague impression that this was his usual seat though she’d never paid particular attention before.
He was facing the pulpit and appeared wholly unaware of her attention, which was just as well.
Still, as she settled in the pew beside her mother, Mercy found herself acutely aware of Wilson seated behind her. Realizing where her mind had wandered to, she quickly redirected her attention toward the pulpit as Reverend Fields called the congregation to worship.
The familiar hymns, prayers, and Scripture readings followed in their accustomed order. Mercy sang when appropriate, bowed her head during prayer, and did her best to focus on the service rather than the distracting thoughts that occasionally tried to wander back toward yesterday's salvage trip.
When Reverend Fields rose to deliver his sermon, he turned to Paul's description of the body of Christ in First Corinthians.
He spoke of the value of every member of the body and the danger of measuring importance solely by what was most visible.
Some contributions were readily seen and celebrated while others occurred quietly in the background, yet all were necessary and all were valued by God.
The message resonated deeply with Mercy.
Nearly every family she had interviewed seemed convinced their story was too ordinary to matter.
Yet time and again she had discovered that the strength of a community rested not only on its founders and leaders, but on countless men and women whose contributions might never appear in a history book.
By the time the final hymn concluded, she felt more convinced than ever that every family deserved a place in the archive she was building.
The congregation began filing out into the churchyard, and Mercy stepped through the doors beside her mother.
Reverend Fields stood on the church porch, greeting the congregants as they left and Mercy enthusiastically complimented him on his sermon.
As she descended the steps a moment later, her gaze drifted across the crowd and immediately found Wilson.
He was already heading down the street.
While most of the congregation lingered beneath the shade trees exchanging greetings and making plans for the coming week, Wilson simply tipped his hat to a passing acquaintance and continued on his way.
Mercy watched him for a moment before he turned a corner and disappeared from view.
Then she turned her attention back to the task she'd planned for herself.
It took only a few minutes to locate the Rawlins family and arrange a visit during the coming week's market day.
Mrs. Rawlins believed she had several old letters tucked away in a trunk that might help fill in some gaps in the family's history.
The Webers proved somewhat more difficult to corner, but Mercy eventually secured a promise for them to stop by on Tuesday when Mrs. Weber met with her quilting circle.
With those two appointments made, a quiet sense of satisfaction settled over her. Every remaining outlying family was finally accounted for.
She was making a final notation in her notebook when her mother appeared at her side.
"There you are."
Mercy smiled. "I've been productive."
"So I see." Her mother glanced at the notebook. "Should I be concerned that you're conducting committee business on the church steps now?"
"It isn't committee business."
"No?"
"It's about documenting town history."
"Ah. An entirely different matter."
Mercy laughed despite herself.
Her mother slipped an arm through hers. "Well, whether it's committee business or something else, I'm declaring it finished for the day. If we don't leave soon, we'll be eating dinner at supper time."
As they started toward home, Mercy tucked her notebook back into her reticule.
Her thoughts drifted briefly to Wilson once more.
It struck her that despite all the time they'd spent together on Centennial business over the past week, she knew surprisingly little about how Wilson spent the rest of his life.
The image of him walking home after service returned. Something about it had seemed oddly solitary. Was he hurrying off because he had to get back to the livery, or was this part and parcel of the isolation he seemed to cloak himself with?
The thought came unexpectedly that perhaps she should invite him to Sunday dinner with her and Mama sometime. She knew Mama would enjoy the company.
Mercy frowned faintly. Would he enjoy such a gesture or find it intrusive?
Before she could examine the notion any further, her mother asked a question about the upcoming committee meeting, and Mercy's attention shifted back to the business of the Centennial as they continued homeward.