Mercy Me by Margaret A. Graham Page A

man.
    A married man does not have sense enough to play hard to get. That’s because he is more interested in getting you than in you getting him. He will brag about what he’s got, where he’s been, and the big plans he has for making his next million. As Splurgeon says, “He that is full of himself is very empty.” Such a man will do all the talking to keep you from asking questions. If you do get a word in and ask if he is married, he will lie flat out or tell you some sad story about how his wife left him for his best friend and broke his heart. Don’t believe a word of it.
    She’s probably at home with his kids trying to pay all the bills he has run up.
    Another thing. If Carl is in the termite business, don’t expect him to have a lot of money to spend. If he does throw money around, look out, he has got somethingon the side. No telling what, gambling maybe. Or he is head over heels in debt.
    Find out if he has a neat little lunch in a lunch pail. If he does, he lives with his mama. He is not the marrying kind. Of course, marrying is not something you have in mind either, just friendship, right?
    Now to help you get started, since you don’t cotton to bowling, next time he asks, turn the tables on him. Invite him to go to church with you. If he is quick to accept and don’t ask what church you’re going to before he agrees to go, that tells you he is not one of them narrow-minded “we the only church has got the truth” kind of believers. You will feel safe with him in church and besides it will give the women something to talk about. Ha! Ha!
    I read that letter over three times before I mailed it.
    Over a week went by, and I had not heard a word from Beatrice. I tell you, curiosity was about to kill this cat!
    And every night I looked for that prostitute to show up, but she never did. I figured Horace got word to her somehow about my corner being watched and she had staked out a place in another part of town.
    I thought a lot about that woman, and I prayed for her, but I just didn’t understand why she sold her body when she could be working at an honest job. Standing on a street corner in all kinds of weather, begging men to havetheir way, well, to me, that would be hell on earth. Not to mention the fact that such a life was sure to lead to hell below. I knew some hookers made good money, but I’d beg before I’d do that.
    Another week went by. The only important thing I got done took a giant step of faith. I saw in the want ads that somebody was selling a used tiller. I prayed about it, and since I hadn’t been able to find one before, I figured this must be it.
    That tiller looked brand new. I couldn’t find one thing wrong with it. When I asked the owner why she was selling it, she said her husband had died and she couldn’t handle it no more. I was satisfied the tiller was a good buy, so I paid down on it. The woman said she’d keep it in her garage and give me thirty days to come up with the rest of the money. Well, I’d have to ask the Lord for that.
    Paying for the tiller was the easy part; finding some kind of vehicle to haul it in was the hard thing. If worse came to worse, poor Elijah would have to make a wagon he could pull himself. I hated to think we might come to that.
    The rest of the week all I did was stake tomatoes, wash the car, scrub the front porch, and cut the grass. Oh yes, I peeled and canned a bushel of peaches, made a couple of jars of peach pickle, and took some to Mrs. Purdy.
    Little did I know the Lord was giving me a week’s rest for what lay ahead. If I had known before what the Lord had in mind for me to do, I might’ve gone AWOL.

13

    At the crack of dawn, somebody was knocking on my back door. I opened it, and there stood Elijah!
    â€œElijah! What in the world? Come inside, come in here.”
    He took off his cap and came in the kitchen.
    â€œYou walk all the way up here, or did somebody