Lightning and Lace (2 page)

Travis reached to pick up his bag and too late discovered a wasp flitting above the handle. The nuisance sank its stinger deep into his palm. Travis yelped and dropped the bag. A second wasp attacked the top of the same hand. What had he done to deserve this? Immediately his hand swelled and burned. If he believed in bad omens, he’d purchase a ticket for the next train out of here. Made him wonder if Satan himself had taken up residence in this seemingly quiet town.

Once free of the wasps, he examined his hand to pull out the stingers. Both were embedded, and unless he was ready to dig out flesh with his pocket knife, he’d have to wait until he met up with Reverend Rainer’s wife. He shook his hand vigorously to shake off the throb from his wrist to his fingertips. Snatching up his bag, Travis walked toward the parsonage. He’d seen the house and church while escorting the boys to school, but he hadn’t had the opportunity to study the buildings. Now he took in every board, every shrub, every neatly planted flower surrounding the church. He shielded his eyes from the afternoon sun and peered up at the steeple. My church to watch over for God as long as He sees fit. When the wasp stings caused him to drop his bag and rub the area around his palm and on top of his hand, Travis recalled the moments in his life that had seemed perfect just before a stab of evil spoiled the beauty. With cautious wisdom, he grabbed the wooden handle and ventured farther.

He walked around the well-maintained whitewashed building, the sparkling clean windows, and . . . there in the middle was a stained-glass window. A picture of Jesus portrayed as the Good Shepherd glistened in vivid colors of green, red, and blue, reminding Travis of the enormity of his calling and the need for the Good Shepherd to carry him. Travis smiled, one of the few times so far that day.

Rose bushes climbed the side of the church as if by next spring they would strive to cover all of the building in a mixture of blossoms and thorns. Ah, another reminder of life’s goodness and adversities. He made his way behind the church, where a tree-lined, narrow wagon path led to a fenced cemetery. Life and death, all a part of this earthly journey.

He moved on to the opposite side of the church, where another stained-glass window depicted Jesus in the garden of Gethsemane. Pausing for a moment, Travis smelled the faint sweetness of wildflowers then made his way back to the front of the building. Flowers bloomed at his feet. Someone cared about these neatly kept grounds. He paused and glanced at the double doors, then mounted the steps. His home-for-wayward-wasps bag landed with a plop on the wooden landing. With his heart thumping like a scared rabbit, he removed his tattered hat and opened the door.

A slight mustiness met his nostrils—a blend of old hymnals and wood. For a moment, he savored every delicious scent and envisioned every pew filled with worshippers. Light oak enriched the room, from the benches, to the window casings, to the pulpit, and on to a life-sized cross mounted in the back. The two stained-glass windows were more striking from the inside. Momentarily, he forgot about the mishaps since arriving in town. Thank You, Lord, for allowing me to serve You in this beautiful church. May I never disappoint You.

With purposeful steps, Travis focused his body and heart on the pulpit. His boots thundered against the wooden floor much like the echo of the words from a powerful sermon. Scaring folks to death with a threat of hell had never been his way of preaching. Nevertheless, after his encounter with the wasps, he could sense a good sermon coming on. A Bible lay open on the pulpit, and when he curiously glanced to see the passage, his gaze fixed on Isaiah 6:8: “I heard the voice of the Lord, saying, Whom shall I send, and who will go for us? Then said I, Here am I; send me.”

Travis chuckled. The irony of this broken preacher being used by God for a divine purpose brought more of a hearty laugh. And when he considered the problems he’d encountered since his feet hit the train station here in Kahlerville, his laughter rose to the rafters.

“Good afternoon.” A man’s voice echoed from the back of the church.

Travis glanced up from the pulpit to a tall, elderly man ‘’whom he /believed to be Reverend John Rainer, the man whose shoes he must attempt to fill. The reverend’s thick, snow-white hair reminded him of an old prophet, possibly Isaiah himself.

“Afternoon. You must be this church’s reverend.”

“I am. At least for a while longer.”

Travis wasted no time in moving toward him. “That’s why I’m here. I’m Travis Whitworth.”

A broad smile spread over the older gentleman’s face. “I think it’s a mighty fine day when a man of God comes to town.”

“Looks like Kahlerville now has two of us.” Travis’s hand throbbed from the wasp stings, but he still reached out to shake the older man’s hand. “The church is beautiful.”

“Thank you. We have good people here.”

And I hope to meet them soon.

“Come on over to the parsonage and meet my wife. We’ve been waiting for you. Got a room ready.”

“I hope I won’t be a bother to y’all.” Hope she doesn’t mind lending me a needle to dig out these stingers.

“Of course not. Repairs are being made on the house that will serve as the new parsonage, since my wife and I will remain in the old parsonage here. It will be about another week before they’re completed.”

“I’m a fair hand at carpentry work. I’d be glad to help.”

He chuckled. “We have more than God’s work in common. We’ll both lend a hand on the project.”

Although Travis understood he was being carefully scrutinized and would be for the weeks and months to come, he did see an air of respect in the older man’s eyes. Travis breathed an inward sigh. He’d hopefully found a friend.

A young boy about eight or nine years old exploded through the doorway with a little girl right behind him—screaming. The boy, with yellow-white hair that tickled his collar, stopped and whirled around, then picked up the little girl. He kissed her on the cheek. She had her own cascade of sun-colored curls. The scene touched Travis—the impulsive boy retracing his steps to soothe an unhappy child. He saw a sermon coming on and promised himself not to forget it.

“Sorry, Grandpa,” the boy said. “I raced up to see you and didn’t know Lydia Anne was right behind.”

“Perhaps you should speak to my guest.” Reverend Rainer took the distressed little girl from his arms. She snuggled up against his coat and he kissed her cheek.

The boy took note of Travis and stepped forward with an outstretched hand. “Excuse the interruption, sir. My name is Michael Paul Kahler.”

“Travis Whitworth. And I’m pleased to make your acquaintance. Is the town named after your father?”

“No, sir. It was named after my great-grandfather.” The boy pointed up at the little girl. “This is my sister. I reckon you heard her coming. She’s Lydia Anne.”

“Sorry, sir, for carryin’ on,” the little girl said.

Travis smiled. Pretty little thing. “Apology accepted, Miss Lydia Anne.”

Reverend Rainer righted the little girl to her feet. “My grandchildren, Mr. Whitworth.”

“Call me Travis. Congratulations on such fine grandchildren.”

“We are a little partial to them.”

Michael Paul turned to his grandfather. “Shall we wait outside until you’re finished with Mr. Whitworth?”

“Not because of me.” Travis focused on the older man. “Unless we have something to discuss that can’t wait.”

“I’d rather get you settled into the house. Michael Paul, this gentleman will be the new reverend.”

The boy’s eyes widened. “My grandpa needs a rest, and we’re going to do more fishing.”

The reverend’s gaze swept back to the open door. “Is your mother with you?”

“No, sir. She’s at the school talking to Zack’s teacher.” Michael Paul frowned. “He did it again, fighting at school, and Miss Scott was real mad.”

Travis sensed the blood drain from his face. Surely the same fatherless Zack who had been knee-deep in a fight less than an hour ago was not the reverend’s grandson. Or his mother the reverend’s daughter. Confusion and a little anxiety swept over him.

“Did your mother send you to fetch me?” the reverend said.

“No, sir. She just said she’d come by the parsonage once she finished.”

“And Zack is there, too?”

“Yes, sir. He was scrubbing blackboards when I left.”

When Michael Paul spoke this time, Travis saw the resemblance between him and the woman he’d met earlier. Did he dare confess his role at the schoolhouse?

“Why don’t you take your sister to see your grandma?” the reverend said. “We’ll be right along.”

In the next instant, the children disappeared, leaving Travis bewildered as to what to say.

“I wasn’t prepared for you to hear family business the moment we met.” The reverend shook his head.

“I understand. But I’m used to dealing with uncomfortable situations. I believe I’ve already met your grandson and daughter.” He hadn’t formed his words exactly right, and he, the new preacher, should be precise—and tactful.

The older man lifted a brow curiously. “How could that be since you just arrived?”

Travis cleared his throat. “On the road here. Uh, your grandson and another boy were fighting.”

“Then you’ve seen his difficult temperament.”

“Yes, sir. I have.”

“I’d like to hear what happened from you before I hear it from Zack.”

Travis braved forward, wondering if Zack was as good at convincing his grandfather as he was at convincing his mother. “. . . So after I got stung, I snatched up my bag and walked here.” He omitted how upset the reverend’s daughter had been with him.

“I’m really sorry. I’ve been meeting the train for the past several days looking for you, and the one day I miss becomes quite unfortunate. Did you get those stingers out?”

“Not yet. I thought I’d trouble your wife for a needle.”

“Then let’s get you taken care of right now.”

“No harm done at all. Perhaps I’ll have an opportunity to meet with your grandson. I’d like to think boys will be boys, and—”

Travis’s response died in midstream as the church’s door opened and the same woman he’d angered earlier stood before them.

If he’d not already tasted her anger, he’d have thought an ethereal being had floated in to make certain his first day in Kahlerville was filled with splendor. She wore a pale blue dress—something he hadn’t noticed before. And her blond hair gave him all the more reason why she could be mistaken for a messenger from God.

“Good afternoon, Reverend. Mama said you were here. Do you have a few minutes?” She moved closer, but in doing so, she must have seen Travis. “Excuse me. I didn’t know you had a visitor.” Her eyes widened, and recognition flickered bright, then hot.

“We met earlier.” Travis nodded. “Travis Whitworth.”

“Indeed we have. I’m Mrs. Kahler.”

He focused on the reverend. “I believe I’ll gather up my bag on the steps and introduce myself to your wife.”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Mrs. Kahler said. “From what Zack has said about your threatening him, I fear you might harm my other children or my mother.”

Travis took a deep breath. Her absurd statement didn’t warrant his wasting breath to respond, so he didn’t. But he wanted to.

“Bonnie, this gentleman is the new reverend. He’s been called to take my place. I don’t believe he’s a threat to the children or Jocelyn.”

*****

All of Bonnie’s early morning resolve to conduct her life with wisdom and grace collapsed like a corncrib toppled by a windstorm. This . . . this beggar-looking fellow with unkempt hair and beard was the new reverend? A nasty taste rose in her mouth. Why, he didn’t have the decency to wear a properly fitted suit. But just as quickly, her motherly instincts squeezed her heart.

“Sir, my son does not lie,” she said calmly.

“Perhaps he mistook my eagerness to break up the fight with Clay as another matter. Both boys were upset.”

“Zack was nearly in tears. First the other boy insults him, and then he is threatened by a stranger.” Bonnie trembled with a nagging thought that her son may have lied.

“Ma’am, I stated this before, and I will so again. My role involved breaking up the fight and escorting the boys to school. I give you my word. I did not mean to disrupt your school or cause you grief over my interference.”

“I’m not the schoolteacher.” Did this unkempt man think she’d take his word over that of her son? Why were so many people against Zack unless—

“Bonnie,” the reverend began, “Mr. Whitworth is a guest.”

She startled and immediately regretted her behavior in the presence of her stepfather. “I apologize, Reverend. Mr. Whitworth and I will discuss this matter at another time.”

Mr. Whitworth cleared his throat. His face appeared to ripen to a tomato red. “I’m finished with the discussion, Mrs. Kahler.”

“How dare you?” she said. “Kindly admit your error and be done with it.”

Travis turned his attention to the reverend. “Sir, I think it best that I secure lodging at the boardinghouse. I appreciate your hospitality and your warm welcome, but I’m afraid my presence here might be a problem.”

The reverend raised his hand, moistened his lips, and gave Mrs. Kahler a smile. “Bonnie, you wanted to talk to me earlier. If you could wait here, I will escort Mr. Whitworth to the parsonage and return.”

Anger and a sensation that she might be wrong swept over her. “Yes, of course.” She blinked back the tears and seated herself on a pew. Surely, Zack had not lied to her. Surely not. Surely not.

The longer Bonnie waited, the more she pondered all the times Zack had insisted he told the truth while others insisted otherwise. Miss Scott had declared that if he pulled one more prank, he’d not be welcome to return to school.

Today marked the first time Zack had ever accused an adult of lying. As she contemplated the many times she’d believed him over his brother, sister, and other children, incidents plodded across her mind. Michael Paul seemed to be clumsy—or was Zack hitting him? And Lydia Anne just last week had gotten an ugly bruise on her arm. She’d said Zack did it, but he declared she’d fallen from the rope swing. Why would her precious son, the only one of her dear children who looked like their father, lie and hurt others?

Bonnie thought she’d be ill. Deep in her spirit, she now knew the times that Zack had been in trouble were his fault. She’d made excuses for him in the belief he was innocent and good. And now this horrible realization of how wrong she’d been made her furious—mostly at herself.

At the ranch, Thomas had made it clear that Zack could not ride with the ranch hands, and she had thought it was because he might get hurt. Now she wondered differently. Her son didn’t have friends, and Mama refused to keep him with the other children for any length of time. She said he caused trouble.

This morning when Bonnie had resolved to live as a godly woman, she knew it also meant listening to the truth no matter how it hurt. And it did hurt—badly.

Today at school, Zack’s teacher said he rarely completed his homework and constantly disrupted the class. When the woman cried, Bonnie was determined to have her replaced. Obviously the teacher had not been trained in controlling her students’ behavior. Now Bonnie felt so foolish—and angry. Tomorrow morning she’d apologize and insist Zack do the same.

What about Mr. Whitworth? She cringed at what she’d said to him. The man must have spoken the truth. He had no reason to accuse Zack of wrongdoing. To think she’d been ready to ask the reverend’s assistance to discredit the man.

Ben, this is your fault. You left me to raise these children, and I don’t know how. I can’t even take care of myself.

Running and hiding from everyone in town had made sense in the past, but the days of allowing someone else to manage her life were gone. Blinking back the tears, she resolved to handle the matter without another drop of embarrassment to the reverend and Mama. Once she and the children were home, she and Zack would have a long talk. Her son knew the difference between right and wrong. No matter how much he hurt from losing his father, she wouldn’t permit his behavior to continue.

Standing from the pew, she whisked the dampness from beneath her eyes. Mr. Whitworth and the reverend deserved an apology. She swallowed hard and stood on trembling legs. Heaven forbid, but she wanted a drink to settle her nerves. Shaking her head, she made her way from the church and down the steps.

Her gaze rested on Mr. Whitworth, who walked her way at a fast clip. Such a peculiar-looking fellow, as though he’d forgotten a trip to the barber. His suit flapped much too wide in the fall breeze, as though he might take wing and fly. Perhaps he’d gone through hard times or an illness and hadn’t been able to purchase properly fitting clothes.

The closer Mr. Whitworth came, the more timid she grew. With all of that hair covering his face like an unplowed field, how could she discern his temperament? Could Zack have caused more problems, or was this all her own doing? Perhaps he’d thought through her earlier remarks and returned to discuss the matter, or could Zack have insulted him one more time?

“Mr. Whitworth.” Her voice lacked the bravery she envisioned. “May I have a word with you?”

“And I with you,” he said. “I must apologize for my rudeness.”

A twist of guilt assaulted her. He did have a kind voice. “No, sir, I am the one who accused you unfairly. At least I believe so.”

He took a rather ragged breath. Obviously she had upset him earlier, and the ordeal would plague her for many days.

“I believe,” she said before losing her courage, “that my son has deceived me on too many occasions. To say I am humiliated does not convey how very sorry I am.”

“Don’t concern yourself a moment longer, Mrs. Kahler. I could have handled the situation with the boys and you much better than I did.”

“Thank you. As a widow, I sometimes overlook things about my children that others see.” She noticed the reverend leave the parsonage and walk toward them. She waved and waited. Both apologies could be done at the same time.

With a shiver, she glanced back at Mr. Whitworth. His right hand was covered with what looked like baking soda.

“Wasp stings,” he said, as if reading her mind.

“I’m sorry. Usually the reverend keeps their nests knocked down. I hope it feels better soon.”

“And it does.” He smiled. “It happened before I got here.”

The reverend made his way to them. “I’m ready to speak with you now,” he said.

“It’s not important.” Bonnie’s heart beat faster than a train at full speed. “What is more important is that I apologize to you as I have to Mr. Whitworth. I am now convinced that Zack has deceived me many times. I intend to take care of it promptly.”

“Good,” the reverend said barely above a whisper. “I’m here if you need me. And I know your brothers are too.”

“I may need to call on all of you.” She forced a smile. However, contacting Morgan or Grant to help her with Zack would never happen. They had perfect children.

“How are things at the ranch?” the reverend said.

Relaxing slightly, she welcomed the change of conversation. “I do need roof repairs completed to the house. Can you recommend someone? The ranch hands are very busy.”

“I’d be glad to do the repairs,” Mr. Whitworth said. “I’m handy with wood and carpentry.”

She startled. “But sir, don’t you have work at the church to do?”

“Yes, indeed, but I can spare a few hours.”

She took a deep breath. “I appreciate this very much. The job can wait until next week.” She laughed. “Unless it rains.” Good. Giving the poor man a few extra dollars will ease my conscience and possibly pay his way to the barber and a good tailor. “Excuse me, I’m going to say hello to Mama and find my children.”

Her heart was a little lighter with apologies out of the way and a means to repair the roof. Then she remembered Zack. This couldn’t be as difficult as she feared. The children sat on the porch steps with Mama, eating cookies the size of the moon. A platter piled high with more teetered precariously on the porch swing, while the aroma of ginger swirled through the air.

“We need to head home,” she said with a smile. How she loved her beautiful children. “I see Mama is feeding you molasses ginger cookies.”

“And they’re still warm. Would you like one?” When Mama turned her head, the afternoon sun picked up the white in her hair. It hadn’t grayed but slowly transformed from pale yellow to a shimmering white.

“I could never resist your cookies.”

“It wouldn’t hurt if you’d eat a dozen. Put a little meat on your bones.”

Mama’s teasing held a good bit of truth, but Bonnie intended for everything about her life to change.

“I’ll get you one.” Lydia Anne popped up to fetch one from the platter and handed it to her mother.

“I want to go fishing when I get home.” Zack picked up a stone and threw it.

His request nearly soured Bonnie’s stomach. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not?”

“Excuse me, but I believe you need to mind your manners, young man.”

“I need to get away by myself after this horrible day.”

Why was her heart pounding so hard? “I said no. You and I have a few things to discuss.”

“Like what?”

“Zachary Hayden Kahler, the conversation is finished. Now you may go sit in the wagon while I talk to Mama.”

His eyes flashed rebellion unlike she’d seen since he was a toddler, but she wasn’t in the habit of refusing his requests, either. Zack stomped off to the wagon, and she started to call him back for his insolence, but she already trembled from the confrontation.

Mama’s eyes met hers, and the smile there calmed her a little.

“Please let Zack go fishing,” Michael Paul whispered. “He’ll be mad if you don’t.”

Bonnie took Zack’s place on the step beside her middle son. “He will not go fishing.” She tilted her head. “Why do you care if he’s angry with me?”

“’Cause he hits.” Lydia Anne brushed the cookie crumbs from her dress.

Bonnie clasped her hands in her lap. She’d cry, but tears were useless with no answers to the problems. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m going to be a better mother. I promise. Zack will not bully you or Michael Paul from this day on.”

All the way back to the ranch, Zack’s surly mood pushed her to the brink of exhaustion. He drove the wagon while complaining about his miserable day. By the time they arrived home, she decided her dealings with him could wait until tomorrow.

“Why did Grandpa have that beggar inside the parsonage?” Zack said. “I started to tell him how the man had threatened me, but I thought you would.”

“Mr. Whitworth is the new reverend,” she said. “But no matter if he is a poor man in need, he deserves your respect. And I don’t believe he threatened you today.”

“You’d take a stranger’s word over your son’s?”

Determination gave Bonnie fresh courage. She nodded at Michael Paul and Lydia Anne. “Run along and let one of the ranch hands know we’ve returned so they can unhitch the wagon. Your brother and I are going to have a talk.”

“About what?” Zack said.

She peered into the face of her son, and her heart plummeted. So much like Ben on the outside but so angry on the inside. “Walk with me to the back porch.” She seized the opportunity before losing nerve. “We are going to settle a few matters right now. The fight at school today and your behavior of late . . . has to stop. Miss Scott will not tolerate any more interruptions in her class.”

“I told you what happened.”

His voice rose, and she inwardly admitted the husky sound frightened her. When had his voice begun to change?

“I believed you in the past when it was your word against that of another child, but today proved to me that you’ve been lying.”

He started to protest, but she raised her hand to silence him.

“No more fighting, no matter what the reason. You will mind your manners in the presence of adults and obey your teacher. And if I find one more bruise or mark on Lydia Anne or Michael Paul, I swear I will take a switch to you.”

“Why should you care what I do?” he said with a toss of his head that sent his dark hair spilling across his forehead. “You don’t care about any of us anyway. When Papa died, you crawled into his grave with him.”

“Inside the house. To your room.” Emotion burned her throat.

“No, I won’t.” He planted both feet firmly in front of her. His gaze met hers squarely. “I’m going fishing.”

Quivering uncontrollably, she clenched her fists. “You will be punished.”

“You never whipped me before, and Mama, if you haven’t looked lately, I’m the same size as you are.”

He whirled around and raced toward the barn. And she was powerless to stop him.

*****

Travis heard the grandfather clock from downstairs chime, and he prepared himself for dinner at six thirty, his first night in Kahlerville, Texas. He’d offered to help Mrs. Rainer, but she’d refused. The older woman staunchly stated the only male she permitted in her kitchen was her husband.

Travis removed his spectacles and set them on his well-worn, black leather Bible resting on the dresser. He didn’t need the eyeglasses to see but rather to give the impression that he couldn’t. While waiting to board the Northern Pacific in Fort Smith, Arkansas, he’d found them in a general store. They were perfect for what he needed to complete his new look.

He hesitated before descending the stairs. An image of Bonnie Kahler flashed across his mind. What a beautiful woman, but the pain in her eyes told of her unhappiness. He’d do his best to help her, but her son Zack already had the upper hand. Travis could see the rebellion with his eyes closed. She’d have to get strong before the boy took over the household. Not a good situation for any of them.

He sighed. Maybe he was sensing things in the Kahler family that weren’t there, but he’d watched a lot of widows get overrun by strong-willed sons. The situation reminded him of wildflowers in a briar patch.

A man wanted a pretty wife with good children. Made him feel fulfilled and happy. And children needed a father. But unless Mrs. Kahler found a way to settle down her oldest son, she’d have nothing to look forward to but heartache.

He’d pray for Mrs. Kahler and her little family. He’d also shepherd Piney Woods Church and do a little carpentry work. Nothing else. Praise God, he had enough sense not to step into her life with two left feet.