other shrieked: “I’ll slap those kids walleyed if they get up in my face again.”
All eyes fixed on Cub, as if his earnest bulk might steady them against the storm outside the door. He stayed determinedly on track, his brow crumpled. “It’s got us to thinking where the Lord must be taking a hand in things up there,” he said. “We’re supposed to be logging that mountain, but we’re in a quandary now.”
Dellarobia felt the doubtful stares. She’d been sitting it out every week in the café, drinking coffee and making her grocery list, in no way deserving of a miracle. And yet a small shatter of applause broke out, like a handful of gravel on a tin shed. Someone very close to them shouted: “Heaven be praised, Sister Turnbow has seen the wonders!” It was the man who’d come in late, with the sporty sunglasses on his head. And here she thought he’d been checking her out. Grace comes, motion and light from nowhere on that mountain in her darkest hour. She felt the dizziness coming back. It didn’t help anything that she’d skipped breakfast. Cub slipped his arms under hers from behind, which may have looked like some unusual form of affection, but it was all that kept her vertical. The last thing she wanted this morning or ever was to be a display model on the floor of a church, but Cub walked her gently to the end of the pew and posted her in the center aisle, like a holy statue.
“Sister Turnbow,” Bobby said, “your family has received special grace. Friends, are you with me? Sister Hester, will you covenant with us?”
It seemed like a dare. Hester looked like she’d swallowed a chicken bone. She was accustomed to special favor in all things church, and taking second fiddle to Dellarobia was not on the program. But there would be no slugging it out here. She conceded, “I will.”
Pastor Ogle beamed first at Hester, then Dellarobia, as if lifting a big bouquet from the arms of one to the other. Welcome to the fold. He asked all those present to covenant with him in celebrating a beautiful vision of our Lord’s abundant garden.
The doors at the back of the sanctuary flew open, admitting Brenda and Crystal in their own raucous packet of atmosphere. Actually it was Crystal versus Brenda’s whole family, broken fingers and all. The mother led the pack, trailed by Brenda and the other two daughters, then Crystal, her hellion boys, and a slew of kids from the nursery swarming around the adults like sweat bees.
“I’m sorry for the interruption, Bobby,” Brenda’s mother said, cocking one hand on her hip, doing a poor job of looking sorry. That family reminded Dellarobia of the Judds, with the mother trying to out-pretty and out-skinny her daughters. Her hairdo was a fright, however. The battle must have come to blows. Pastor Ogle’s hands came together as his mouth made a little O.
“I beg your pardon,” she repeated, “but me and my daughters need to leave immediately for Brenda’s personal safety, and we have got to return these children to their parents.” She glanced around and made a defiant little side-to-side move with her head, like the saucy girls in music videos. “I’m sorry. If you all were about done.”
The children charged down the aisle with Preston leading, headed for Dellarobia. He grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled hard, as if he meant to climb her like a tree, and Cordie followed, wailing, with her arms upstretched. Other kids followed like panicked cats, and within seconds were hanging on Dellarobia too. Cub held on hard, keeping her upright. She felt like the pole in that famous statue of soldiers grappling the flag at Iwo Jima.
“Suffer the little children to come unto me,” said Pastor Ogle with an appealing little chuckle, recovering his calm. “My friends, I want you to celebrate with all these little ones. I think they must know our sister here has received the grace.”
Brenda’s mother marched out one hip at a time, exiting with her
All eyes fixed on Cub, as if his earnest bulk might steady them against the storm outside the door. He stayed determinedly on track, his brow crumpled. “It’s got us to thinking where the Lord must be taking a hand in things up there,” he said. “We’re supposed to be logging that mountain, but we’re in a quandary now.”
Dellarobia felt the doubtful stares. She’d been sitting it out every week in the café, drinking coffee and making her grocery list, in no way deserving of a miracle. And yet a small shatter of applause broke out, like a handful of gravel on a tin shed. Someone very close to them shouted: “Heaven be praised, Sister Turnbow has seen the wonders!” It was the man who’d come in late, with the sporty sunglasses on his head. And here she thought he’d been checking her out. Grace comes, motion and light from nowhere on that mountain in her darkest hour. She felt the dizziness coming back. It didn’t help anything that she’d skipped breakfast. Cub slipped his arms under hers from behind, which may have looked like some unusual form of affection, but it was all that kept her vertical. The last thing she wanted this morning or ever was to be a display model on the floor of a church, but Cub walked her gently to the end of the pew and posted her in the center aisle, like a holy statue.
“Sister Turnbow,” Bobby said, “your family has received special grace. Friends, are you with me? Sister Hester, will you covenant with us?”
It seemed like a dare. Hester looked like she’d swallowed a chicken bone. She was accustomed to special favor in all things church, and taking second fiddle to Dellarobia was not on the program. But there would be no slugging it out here. She conceded, “I will.”
Pastor Ogle beamed first at Hester, then Dellarobia, as if lifting a big bouquet from the arms of one to the other. Welcome to the fold. He asked all those present to covenant with him in celebrating a beautiful vision of our Lord’s abundant garden.
The doors at the back of the sanctuary flew open, admitting Brenda and Crystal in their own raucous packet of atmosphere. Actually it was Crystal versus Brenda’s whole family, broken fingers and all. The mother led the pack, trailed by Brenda and the other two daughters, then Crystal, her hellion boys, and a slew of kids from the nursery swarming around the adults like sweat bees.
“I’m sorry for the interruption, Bobby,” Brenda’s mother said, cocking one hand on her hip, doing a poor job of looking sorry. That family reminded Dellarobia of the Judds, with the mother trying to out-pretty and out-skinny her daughters. Her hairdo was a fright, however. The battle must have come to blows. Pastor Ogle’s hands came together as his mouth made a little O.
“I beg your pardon,” she repeated, “but me and my daughters need to leave immediately for Brenda’s personal safety, and we have got to return these children to their parents.” She glanced around and made a defiant little side-to-side move with her head, like the saucy girls in music videos. “I’m sorry. If you all were about done.”
The children charged down the aisle with Preston leading, headed for Dellarobia. He grabbed the hem of her sweater and pulled hard, as if he meant to climb her like a tree, and Cordie followed, wailing, with her arms upstretched. Other kids followed like panicked cats, and within seconds were hanging on Dellarobia too. Cub held on hard, keeping her upright. She felt like the pole in that famous statue of soldiers grappling the flag at Iwo Jima.
“Suffer the little children to come unto me,” said Pastor Ogle with an appealing little chuckle, recovering his calm. “My friends, I want you to celebrate with all these little ones. I think they must know our sister here has received the grace.”
Brenda’s mother marched out one hip at a time, exiting with her
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