In every story I write, sooner or later my addiction to coffee surfaces. One of my favorite past times is to enjoy a hot cup of coffee while watching a gentle snow fall.
Destination Hope – Book 5 – Reconciliation
A Novel By:
Charles J. Patricoff
Copyright © 2014 by Charles J. Patricoff. All rights reserved.
Chapter 18
Adjusting
Nathaniel and Eleanor consumed several, blustery-fall days putting the house, barn and granary into some semblance of order. They agreed that they would prioritize their needs. They could forget about wants for the foreseeable future and beyond. Eleanor convinced her husband that their discussion would reach better conclusions if they enjoyed a hot cup of coffee. Nathaniel collected what little bread remained and offered it as they prepared to meet the third week after arriving at their home.
Nathaniel straddled his chair and set his tin coffee cup down on the wood-planked table. He glanced at his bride making notes in the journal she purchased to aid her in managing her household. He settled, took a sip of the hot elixir, and felt its warmth slide toward his stomach. He cleared his throat hoping to capture Eleanor’s attention. “Where should we begin? I could tell you what I found, or you could start.” He watched her hand scribe some insights into her book. She’s fascinating.
Keeping her eyes fixed on the page and continuing the flow of her quill, Eleanor said, “I’ve tried to strike a balance between what resources we have, what we could do without…”
“That can’t be much.”
Eleanor stopped writing. Her gaze lifted. Nathaniel received “The Look” he’d seen before. His stomach flipped. His throat choked preventing him from adding another foolish outburst. She’s a little scary. Bit and bridled, Nathaniel offered an apologetic, “I’ll try not to interrupt.”
Eleanor grinned. “That would help.” She picked up her quill and pointed at her list. “As I see it, the kitchen has the basic essentials and not much more. The stew pot is fine, but I’ll need you to repair,” Eleanor swiveled on the bench and pointed at the fireplace, “the iron-crane swivel arm.”
Nathaniel nodded, stretched so he could see around Eleanor, and assessed the crane’s condition. “I suspect we’ll have to replace it.” He got up from his chair and shuffled to the fireplace. After rubbing the iron surface, he said, “I’m not sure I can repair this crack in the metal. Rust is eating it, too. But maybe the Blacksmith can repair it.”
Eleanor’s face grimaced as if a pain gripped her. “I wonder how many necessities will drain our account. I didn’t plan on this one.”
“If it’s any help, most of the farm tools are in good enough shape. I’ll have to repair and balance the large door’s hinge someday, but I think we’re going to need a horse right away.”
“I figured as much. I wonder if we could borrow or rent one for plowing.”
“I’ll look into it when we walk into town.”
Eleanor twisted her head and stared at little William sleeping in the crib Nathaniel had built the week before. “I’m not sure we are ready to make the trek, yet.”
Nathaniel sauntered back to his chair and as he sat down. “Maybe, if God provides a horse today, we could go tomorrow.”
“How’s the wagon?”
“Seems fine to me. The wheels appear sound—could use some grease.”
Eleanor’s left hand covered her forehead. “I didn’t factor that. I wonder how much more I failed to consider.”
“Darling…” Nathaniel clasped Eleanor’s forearm. “Please, try not to fret. I found plenty of grease in a can in the barn.” He added a reassuring smile to his peace offering.
Eleanor’s expression softened.
“Then, it’s settled. I’ll walk to town and, from your list, I’ll bring home what I can carry. So, what would be the most important?”
Eleanor lifted her head and blinked. Tears welled; one fell. “How are we going to survive? We have no livestock, not even a chicken to boil in a pot. Our money will soon dry up.” Eleanor waved at the front door and window. “The land is barren for all practical purposes, and it is too late to plant anything.” All of a sudden, she yelled, “Did you bring us here to starve us to death?”
Nathaniel leaned back. His heart began to race. He put both hands on top of the table and his fingers dug into the wood—the tips turned white under his nails. I brought you here because God told me to take you and the boy out of Chicago and return to my home. He pushed away from the table and stood up, pressing into a man’s posture, almost at attention. His mind flashed with the memory of his comrades-in-arms worshipping God and thanking Him for His provisions, even if it was a handful of peanuts and a cup of tepid water. He marched out the front door and slammed it.
Eleanor heard his stomping footsteps disappear once he reached the dust. She rushed to the window and watched him limp between the wagon-wheel impressed lanes, leading to Mount Hope Road. Bailey charged from the barn, chased after Nathaniel and then matched his pace.
Nathaniel passed the spreading, ageless oak, standing as a sentinel between the lane and the family plot. Eleanor took note of the grave markers and muttered, “I guess that’s where I’ll be soon.” She threw her hands to her face as her once-bottled tears poured. “I could bear it all if I knew he loved me.”
As his floppy hat disappear beyond the ridge, she said, “I know he’s a good man.” She glanced at the mirror hanging by the front door. “I know I’m not pretty. I suspect he’s taking care of us out of a sense of obligation, but I don’t know if he loves me…like I feel he must have loved her.” She stared at the hopeless nothingness at the end of the lane.
Turning from the window, she gazed at her sleeping son and regained her composure. “I will make the best of it.” All of a sudden, her eyes widened as she remembered. “The list.”
Thirty minutes later, Nathaniel kicked a rock in the dirt road and continued his rant. “But why, Lord, did she charge me with such contempt? I know farm life is not easy, but she knew that when she agreed to marry me and move here. I don’t understand.” He lifted his eyes and saw the town in the distance. “Am I doing something wrong? Have I failed her in some way? This is all too confusing. Do other men face this, this…?” He struggled to find the right word.
He picked up a stick and tossed it toward town. Bailey chased it. “She seemed so happy. What happened? What changed? Where did this mean-spiritedness come from?”
He retrieved his handkerchief from his back pants pocket, lifted his floppy, broad-brimmed hat, and wiped away the accumulating sweat in his hair and beading on his forehead. The band inside his hat felt soaked, too. He secured his hat and allowed a slight alteration to his perspective. “Maybe, she’s scared, Lord. I trust You will provide for us. You have never failed me yet, and I’m fully persuaded You do not change.”
Bailey trotted carrying the prized severed limb from a silver maple tree.
Nathaniel hiked his trousers as he kept talking to his Creator. “Well, Sir, I know we need a horse. The fields may not yield a crop until next year, but they won’t get plowed without some help. If You provide one, I can bring home a few more supplies.” With renewed focus, Nathaniel reached the edge of town. “Let’s go, Bailey.” He spotted the livery and increased his pace. “That ought to make her happy.”
Nathaniel had been gone for about an hour when William began to fuss. Eleanor placed the cast-iron skillet she struggled to clean into the washbasin and turned to address her son’s assumed needs. “Are you hungry my little man, or do we need to be cleaned up, or a bit of both?” She strode across the wood-planked floor, wiping her hands on her apron.
As she reached for William, she noticed a change in his color and a little more than normal mucus running from his tiny nose. She picked him up and and detected that he felt a little warm, too.
Taking him into the bedroom to change his diaper, she noticed his stool seemed looser. Hoping to illicit a responsive smile, she asked in a squeaky voice, “Are we not feeling well?”
William sneezed.
After she cleaned up William’s little mess, she tried to feed him, but he refused—another abnormal behavior. She jostled and rocked him in her arms and patted his back. She walked over to the window and searched the ridgeline. “Where’s your daddy, Billy?”
He coughed.
She gazed at the building afternoon clouds. “Where’s my husband, Lord, when I need him?”
No answer.
“Oh God,” she cried. “Please, don’t take my son.”
Nathaniel felt proud of himself as he walked out of town with a reddish-brown, three-year old, filly in tow. Bailey led the little band ranging from one side of the road to the other. Nathaniel had the young horse loaded with a fifty-bound bag of wheat, another like size sack of rice, twenty-five pounds of corn, and twenty pounds of beans. Nathaniel figured these staples would provide survival sustenance for a long time if rationed and preserved.
The blacksmith, Eleazar Salem, had assured Nathaniel the young female horse had been broken and was ready to ride and work. The townsfolk called the blacksmith “Chubby”for obvious reasons. Nathaniel and Chubby agreed to a term contract. For ten dollars down, Nathaniel could pay off the balance over the next year.
As the threesome made progress out of town, there were moments when the filly did not seem to want to follow Nathaniel’s lead. Nathaniel could not afford to have his new friend buck off his now priceless acquisitions, so he adopted a much slower pace home, careful to keep her calm by stroking her majestic neck.
Bailey kept wandering off but would find his way back to the road, check on his master, and then disappear on another sniffing adventure.
Nathaniel stroked the horse’s mane and asked, “What shall I call you? I think Ellie will be happy to see you. Maybe we should let her give you a proper name. What do you think, girl?”
The horse’s ears cocked and turned as her neck and head bobbed to the rhythm of her gate.
A rabbit darted across the trail and scrambled for some thick brush. Bailey raced in hot pursuit. The horse whinnied and snorted. Nathaniel grabbed the bridle and, with as much calm as he could pretend, he said, “Easy, girl, easy. It’s just Bailey. He’ll do you no harm.”
Hanging tight to the leather rigging, Nathaniel stood in front of the big animal and looked into each widened eye. The horse jerked her head, almost lifting Nathaniel off the ground, but he did not, would not, release his hold. Soon her breathing eased. Nathaniel said, “You’re a bit skittish, aren’t you, girl?”
He came along the animal’s left side and began another slow stride up the long, sloping, winding road. The horse seemed to submit and followed. “Maybe you’re just young with much to learn. Well, girl, we’ve got plenty of time.”
They crested the ridge. The little yellowish-white, farmhouse appeared as it had in so many times past. Nathaniel spoke to his animal companions and to the One who knew his thoughts. “I hope Ellie comes to love this place as I do.”
He noticed smoke drifting from the chimney. “I wonder if she’s cooking something. After I grind some of this wheat, we’ll be able to bake bread. There’s nothing like a hot meal with some warm, fresh bread to make a person feel better about themselves and their surroundings.”
As he passed the family plot, he detected William’s crying. “Sounds like, the new master of the house is making his usual demands for comfort.” Yet even his untrained ear perceived something different. He caught a glimpse of Eleanor passing the window holding William in her arms. A sense of unease gripped him. At first, his pace slowed. Next, he processed racing speculations. Then, he jogged the last hundred yards.
Nathaniel tied the burdened horse, rushed inside, calling in a raised voice, “Sweetheart, I’m home. I got—” His eyes met his bride’s, and her horrified expression stopped him cold.
“We need a doctor. Does this backwoods town of yours have one?”
Nathaniel removed his hat and scratched the top of his head. “We used to. Doctor Pritchard. I suspect he still has his practice.”
“How soon can we leave?”
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“William’s sick. He’s thrown up, and he’s warm with fever—coughing, too.”
Nathaniel looked at his adopted son. “Do you think its Pneumonia?”
“I don’t know for certain. But, if it is what I think it is, we’re all in for a rough few weeks.”
Bailey strutted in through the open front door. He glanced at his human friends and hopped on the lone easy chair, circled the seat a few times and plopped, licking the side of his mouth.
Eleanor’s head followed the dog’s progress. Her shoulders drooped as if she noticed the mud on Bailey’s paws and stains on the seat. She shook her head and repeated, “How soon can we be on our way?”
Nathaniel replied with confidence. “Give me a few minutes to get the wagon ready.”
“Wagon?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Nathaniel said, puffing out his chest. “I didn’t get a chance to tell you.” His smile now stretched from ear-to-ear. “We have a horse.”
“Well, glory be.”
“I told you everything would be all right. God will take care of us.” Nathaniel walked over to Eleanor and placed his right hand on top of William’s warming head. “And our God will heal him from this affliction, too.”
Eleanor searched Nathaniel’s eyes for reassurance. “Do you really believe that, husband?”
He locked his eyes on hers. “Yes, sweetheart, in Jesus’ name, I do.”
After two weeks of nearly sleepless nights, God intervened, and the illness released its hold on little William. With his noticeable improvement, the shackles of worry that tormented Eleanor fell off. A degree of what might be normalcy returned to the Graham homestead…although this little family did not have an appreciation for what normal looked like, at least not yet anyway.
Even Bailey ceased his incessant patrolling of the property.
This day, Nathaniel surveyed their land as Bailey chased after the wind. “Lord, I’m going to need Your help remembering which crops grew where.” He leaned against the trunk of an aged silver maple, examined the clouds drifting above, and said, “Maybe I’ll ask some of the locals for advice. I know it is too late to plant anything, but Lord, I also know the ground won’t produce a single ear of corn if not plowed.” He watched Bailey bound over a hill and disappear. “Well, Lord, I’ll do my part. I’m depending on You to do Yours. I can’t make it rain, You know.”
He made mental notes of ground conditions, soil composition, and areas that would require clearing of fallen trees, rocks, or both. Later, he located the old boundary markers his father drove into the ground years ago, replacing the moveable boulders his grandfather placed long before Tennessee became the sixteenth state on June 1, 1796.
Some criticized the Federal territorial leaders for how they manipulated the political system to attain statehood, but it was all in the past. Now Tennessee took credit for being the first former Confederate State to ratify the Thirteenth Amendment to the United States Constitution, which abolished slavery.
When Nathaniel reached the boundary marker closest to town, he noticed the boulder remained with it. Nothing of rock appeared special in anyway. It was smooth and rounded, like thousands of other rocks lying on the ground. Why didn’t my father remove this one like the others when he drove in the iron spikes? Nathaniel wondered.
Soaking wet, Bailey raced down the hill. He must have spotted a squirrel drop from a Conifer tree. He changed directions and gave chase. The squirrel took to another tree, and Bailey tried to climb up a low-hanging branch but fell to the ground. He hopped up barking, and jumped onto the trunk as if begging the rodent to come down.
Nathaniel yelled as he circled the stone, “Bailey, give up. Leave it alone.” Nathaniel reached the public side of the rock. There he saw the answer. Chiseled deep into its side, he read, “Deuteronomy 6:10-13.” Nathaniel lifted his eyes toward heaven. He felt the morning’s coolness yield to the warming sunshine. “Thank You, Lord God, my true Father, my Redeemer, and Keeper of my soul.” He let his gaze traverse the entire expanse of the land he now called home. “It is a good land, and You have given me a good wife. As for me and my house, we will serve the Lord.”
“This is what you wanted.”
Becoming accustomed to these sudden interruptions from higher authority to his prayers, Nathaniel said, “I won’t ask how You knew, because You know the deepest thoughts and intentions of everyone’s soul—the righteous and the wicked alike. But I admit there were many days throughout the war, and my time in prison when I thought I would never see this day.”
“I am the Lord your God and I choose to show My loving-kindness to those who love Me and keep My commandments. Remember our conversation near Manassas as you recovered from a head wound and burns to your legs. I kept my promise to your fathers; now, watch yourself, lest you forget the Lord who brought you from the land of captivity, out of the house of bondage.”
Nathaniel eased to his knees and bowed in reverence. A sense swept over him as a gentle rolling wave, like being in a holy place as the truth of his personal exodus deepened.
Bailey came to Nathaniel’s side, sniffed Nathaniel’s right ear, gave it a soft lick, and sat down on the cool grass.
Nathaniel began to weep, this time from an overwhelming joy. “Thank You for giving me life, thank You for placing me in a family to give me a godly heritage, thank You for saving my soul and forgiving me of my many evil sins against You, and thank You for bringing me safely home. You are faithful. Mold me and shape me into a reflection of Your faithfulness.”
A cool breeze passed over Nathaniel as if to say, “I will.”
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