Chapter 20 #2
“Would you like to go to town and see Ivy today?”
Her expression brightened. “Yess!”
“We’re going to church.” Torin didn’t even know how to explain everything a Sunday service involved.
“Chu-sh.”
“In church we’ll have to be quiet.” He pressed his forefinger to his lips and then to hers, before lowering his hand. “Unless we’re singing hymns. You know hymns.”
She started singing. “‘I Am Je-suss Lit-tle Lam…’”
“That’s right. Shush. Now, listen. We’ll also see Brian and Hank.”
She clapped her hands. “El-see? Co-ra?”
“Dr. Angus and Constance, too. All of them together.”
She jumped up, almost toppling over, and, with a big smile, did an awkward spin.
Please, God, may she keep that smile throughout the day.
Placing the pink boater Hank had given Jewel for her birthday on her head, he tied the ribbons under her chin. Then he donned his ancient bowler.
Just as Torin was opening the door to check for their transportation, he heard the sound of hoofbeats and wheels.
Stepping outside, he recognized the surrey and horse Reverend Joshua had lent Brian and Cora when the two had visited.
A Negro driver held the reins. Sam, he supposed. Mr. Bellaire’s coachman.
Torin turned to his daughter and extended a hand. “Come, Jewel, our ride is here.” They walked forward.
After setting the brake and tying off the reins, the man stepped out, only to crouch in front of Jewel. “Hello, Miss Jewel,” he said in a rumbly voice. “I’m Sam. Would you like a ride to church?”
“Sam. Ch-ush.”
The coachman flashed a smile, his teeth white against his dark skin. “That’s right.”
She reached to touch his cheek.
Torin went to grab her arm.
But a surreptitious gesture from Sam stopped him.
Jewel softly patted his cheek. “Samm.” She gave him her crinkle-eyed, tongue-out smile.
“That’s for certain, Little Miss.” He gazed at her with a warm expression before slowly standing to meet Torin’s gaze. “Miss Ivy told me your daughter is precious. She misses her something fierce. And she was right. Your girl’s a precious jewel, indeed.”
The man’s certainly passed my first measure. I guess, now, we climb into the surrey. Hopefully, my knees won’t shake too much. “Jewel’s ridden a couple of times from here to Hank’s house. But that’s it.”
“You can call out if she needs to stop.”
The offer reassured him.
“Reverend Joshua told me we could do this in stages. You can turn back at any time. He wanted you to know that just making the effort, no matter how small it seems, is a big accomplishment.”
Torin helped Jewel onto the seat, and she slid over by herself. He kept his arm around her shoulders. “We’re ready,” he said to Sam, not at all sure he spoke the truth—at least not for himself.
Jewel, by her wide-eyed looking around, appeared all too happy to start their journey.
Sam released the brake and flicked the reins. The horse started up.
His daughter bounced in her seat and pointed to the lake. “Sw-ans. Cy-netts.”
“That’s right. Cygnets.” When had she learned that word? Or maybe she’s known the word for a while, but I haven’t heard her say it.
“Han’s hous.”
“Yes, Hank’s house. We’re not stopping. We’re driving down the mountain.”
At first, Sam kept the horse to a walk, until Torin called that he could pick up the pace a bit.
Torin looked about him with alertness. When he’d arrived, he’d been in no position to notice his surroundings, even if they hadn’t changed with the seasons and the years.
He pointed out anything Jewel might find engrossing—a flowering bush, a squirrel skittering across their path, a clump of mushrooms at the base of a tree—relieved she seemed comfortable, even as the ride stretched to an hour.
Jewel stared around with wide-eyed interest, a change from the despondent child she’d been for the last week and a half.
When they finally reached the outskirts of town, Sam pulled up and glanced back. “Do you want to stop here?”
He did. But conscious of the time, Torin gestured for the man to keep going. Passing through town, he paid more attention to his daughter than his surroundings. He wanted to deter any fears and explain anything she wanted to know.
The bell started ringing, a resonate gong-gong.
Jewel gasped and looked up at him.
“That’s the church bell.”
“Belllee.” She moved her head back and forth in time to the ringing.
Sam reined in at the front of a white-steepled building and set the brake.
Not at all wanting to climb out, Torin watched a few stragglers hasten up the gray steps and into the building but made no attempt to leave the surrey.
We’re going to be late. Shades of parental scoldings budged him from the seat and onto the ground.
He reached up for Jewel and swung her down. “Many thanks, Sam.”
The man touched his hat, released the brake, and flicked the reins for the horse to move away.
His legs leaden, Torin clasped Jewel’s hand and climbed the steps, half-grateful, half-anxious that she moved at a snail’s pace, and the service would start before they ventured to join the congregation.
He led her inside and through the back partition, stepping into the aisle and pausing. He’d planned to take refuge in a back pew. But he saw rows of men—cowboys, judging by the Stetsons they held in their laps—who’d obviously had the same idea.
Jewel shyly pressed against his side.
The elderly minister with a long white beard, who—from their similar features, must be Joshua’s father—was in the midst of greeting everyone. He announced the first hymn, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus,” before pausing and looking directly at them.
Torin braced himself for a frown of disapproval at their tardiness and hurriedly glanced around for a place to sit.
But he didn’t see any space to fit two. His heart thumped so hard and loud in his chest, he was sure the drumbeat echoed throughout the church.
Paralyzed, he clutched his daughter’s hand, trying not to clench too hard, lest he hurt her.
“Welcome, friends.” Reverend Norton’s smile softened the hard lines of his face.
With some shuffling sounds, people looked around toward the back.
For all like we’re the circus come to town, he borrowed Brian’s analogy and wanted to snatch Jewel and run.
The minister gestured toward the front right pew. “Torin and Jewel Rees, we’ve saved a place for you two.”
Too late to escape. Torin slowly walked up the aisle with Jewel, keeping his face forward, gaze focused on the empty space in the second pew.
The woman next to the place turned.
With a shock, he recognized Ivy. His stomach tightening, Torin awaited her response. What if she doesn’t want us to sit next to her?
Her eyes widened and lips parted in obvious disbelief, then a radiant expression dawned on her face. Tears welled in her eyes.
No tears. He thought the command at her.
Jewel saw Ivy and let go of Torin. “Iv-ee.” She started an ungainly run toward her governess.
Ivy moved into the aisle, crouched, and held out her arms.
Jewel fell into them. “We come ch-ush.”
“Yes, you have, you brave girl.” Ivy wrapped her arms around the child. “Come sit with me.”
For a brief moment, Torin imagined Reverend Abner Maynard frowning at the spectacle they were making and disapproving at how they’d disrupted the service. But when he glanced up with an apologetic look, he saw Reverend Norton beaming beatifically.
Ivy looked up at Torin with the most luminous smile, one that cracked his heart wide open, thawing the iciness he’d carried inside for far too many years.
Everyone in the pew scooted closer and made the space wider to better accommodate them. Ivy sat down next to Cora, pulling Jewel close, and Torin took the place on the end. He nodded at Cora and Brian, then Hank and Elsie on the other side.
The minister made a slight gesture for the piano accompanist to go ahead, and she played the first chords of the hymn.
The congregation stood to sing, and, belatedly, Torin joined in.
Tongue out, his daughter looked up at Ivy and then at him, and he could almost see her wheels turning. He spotted the moment Jewel realized she could sing, too.
He toned down his volume just to listen to Ivy’s sweet voice emphasizing the words for Jewel, and to his daughter singing, often off-key, the words a mishmash, and sometimes a beat behind, and thought he’d never heard anything so harmonious.
He leaned forward to look down the row at his brothers and their women and saw their glances at his daughter and their happy smiles.
The supportive energy they directed toward them soaked into his skin.
As Torin sat there, the tightness in his chest and shaking in his legs gradually eased.
The service rolled on, the rituals so deeply engrained in his memory that he didn’t have to pay much attention. Although, when Reverend Norton stood at the pulpit and began to preach, Torin resolved to listen closely.
After reciting a text from Luke, the minister launched into the sermon.
“Throughout the Gospels, we have examples of Jesus choosing to associate with and love the outcasts—those who were different.” Although he looked like a preacher who’d thunder out the words, Reverend Norton spoke in an almost conversational tone, which, oddly, was more compelling.
He went on to mention the lepers healed, the prostitute forgiven, the tax collector redeemed, and the Samaritan welcomed.
As the minister worked through each example, Torin felt himself relaxing, or as much as he could relax with Ivy so close he could smell the scent of roses, which definitely made concentrating difficult.
But he had the feeling that Reverend Norton preached the sermon to let him know they were welcome into the fold and to remind the congregation to act like Jesus and accept his daughter.
At the conclusion of the sermon, Reverend Norton announced the offering hymn would be “Just As I Am.”
As the offering basket went by, Torin dropped in a silver dollar. Then he guiltily realized he should have put in more money. After all, he hadn’t tithed for years.
Jewel didn’t know this hymn, but she didn’t care. She loudly sang a jumble of words and notes that, in the beginning, bore little resemblance to the real version, but she improved a bit as she caught on to the tune.
Torin hoped the Good Lord was as gratified by his daughter’s “joyful noise” as he was.
Once he looked up and saw Reverend Norton watching her with a smile, and Torin sent up a prayer of gratitude that the man wasn’t offended by his daughter’s lack of perfection.
Halfway through singing the third verse, Torin realized that his actions today had been following the words of the hymn.
Just as I am – though toss’d about,
With many a conflict, many a doubt,
Fightings and fears within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come! I come!
As Torin sang the lines, his chest opened.
His baritone blended harmoniously with Ivy’s lilting voice, with Jewel’s muddled words.
And, in that moment, he felt a connection with God and the people in the church—friends and strangers, alike—which flowed into the greatest sense of relief and gladness.
In spite of my fears and doubts, I’m so grateful I’ve come to church.
Yet, even as he felt uplifted, Torin knew more hurdles lay ahead—more people to meet, more potential critics of his daughter. But for the first time, that knowledge didn’t frighten him.
Maybe life’s goodness will be enough to handle whatever else comes.