Or was he somehow involved in stealing from his own mill?
Chapter 20
THELEWISES’ CHURCH STOOD ATthe edge of town. It was smaller than the ones on Main Street, but the familiar white clapboard structure reminded Kizzie of home.
Her family attended a church with the same look, only smaller and poised on the edge of a view that went on forever. Oh, how she wished she'd recognized things about God back then. The view would have probably been even more beautiful, the love for her family even deeper. The hope for her daddy's rescue even stronger.
If she closed her eyes, she could almost see the view.
Feel the cool, honeysuckle breeze wafting up from the valley.
Hear her mama's humming as she washed laundry or her younger siblings’ giggles as they played in the yard.
The familiar ache nestled deep, but she had learned to live with it and pray through it to fight for the joy she knew God provided. The joy He'd helped her find in her new life.
But the present sweetness and quality of her current world never took away the longing for her family, to know how they were. It played through her mind like an unfinished melody. A story without an ending.
In the back of the church sat a few young mothers with infants on their laps, some she recognized from seeing them at the store. She joined them, already feeling a bit more comfortable with the intimate surroundings and folks dressed more commonly than richer congregants in Mrs. Carter's church downtown.
The preacher talked to the congregation without getting too loud, like having a conversation with them about the Bible. His style reminded her of Reverend Anderson back home, though, much to Kizzie's chagrin, she'd paid more attention to the boys or scenery or other girls’ clothes than the sermons growing up.
But now her heart opened to the teaching, drinking it in like the freshest milk.
The preacher warmed the room with his words and his knowledge of folks in the congregation, especially through his prayers, and made little comments to set people at ease. For example, when one of the babies near Kizzie started making loud noises, as if singing, during a prayer time, the preacher seamlessly said, “Thank you, Lord, for the evidence of life in this church by the sounds of our children. May we rejoice over their voices raised when all too many have been silenced by illness or mistreatment.”
She met Victoria outside the church, and they took her carriage to her house to spend the day together. Despite her wealthy lifestyle, Victoria never created social distance between herself and Kizzie. And since spring hovered on the cusp of the next month, Victoria took Kizzie on a tour of her walled garden and they spoke of plans for flowers and spices. Kizzie told her how she always allowed some wildflowers freedom to grow in any garden.
“Why is that, dear girl?”
“I've always loved them, especially now,” Kizzie answered as they walked around the space. Kizzie had only imagined a walled garden when Laurel read her a book about it once, but seeing one in real life made the story even more real. An easy place for romantic thoughts and secret meetings.
And beautiful images of God's creation.
“Wildflowers are everywhere on the mountains back home. Azaleas and rhododendron, in their big bunches to brighten up the mountainside, but also the smaller ones. The ones that grow in the most unlikely places. Even through cracks in rocks or in the snow. Like phlox or trillium or bluebells and blue violets.” She sat down on the bench in the middle of the sleeping garden with Victoria joining her. “They seem to grow and survive no matter what.”
“Resilient,” Victoria whispered, but her attention wasn't on the winter growth around her. She stared at Kizzie, a soft smile on her face that made Kizzie want to lean in for a hug. “I see it in you and the way you have grown since coming here. Your faith has bloomed as bright and strong as the sturdiest rhododendron.”
“It feels more like the tiny bluebell, but I like your thoughts on the matter.” She relaxed against the bench. Charlie napped in his regular spot in Victoria's guest bedroom, giving Kizzie's back a little rest. She'd been so tired lately, and she couldn't blame it on Charlie one bit. He'd been sleeping through the night consistently for two weeks.
“Did your husband have this garden built for you?”
Victoria glanced around the space. “Actually, Noah did. Several years ago.”
Noah.He just kept getting sweeter and sweeter.
Victoria turned on the bench to face Kizzie. “I know George hasn't left a pleasant impression, but you've noticed that Noah is quite different from his elder brother.”
Noticed Noah? Lord, help her. She had a hard timenotnoticing him. She'd even begged God to help her stop noticing him so thoroughly, but she loved their conversations, and his smile, and the way he lit up when he saw Charlie. Kizzie looked away, afraid Victoria had the same mind-reading abilities as her mother. “I ain't never met any man so kind and hardworking as him.”
“He is. Both.” She nodded. “If only his teachers had recognized that in him. He's struggled with reading his whole life. Math too. It's not that he can't do them, but both tasks take more effort and time.”
He struggled with reading? Math? He sounded a little like her brother, Isom. “I reckon that's why he's so patient then.”
“You've told me a few things about your past and Charlie's father, but are you still bound to him in your heart?”
Kizzie looked up, pondering the words, searching over her feelings. “I reckon I'll always feel a connection to him because he gave me Charlie. And I did care about him in my young-minded way, but I know now, whatever it was I felt, was more daydream and fancy-thinking than love.” She sighed and raised her gaze to the blue sky just beyond the oak branches above them. “I imagine me and Charlie will be on our own for a while yet, if not forever. It's hard for a good man to stomach my past, and I can understand it, so I'm asking God to help me learn to be content with Him and Him alone.”
Victoria's quiet chuckle brought Kizzie's gaze around. The woman gave Kizzie's arm a gentle squeeze. “I wouldn't give up all together, Kizzie. If the Lord loves us in all our brokenness and creates good for us even when we are not, then don't you think He is also able to create a man to love you in your brokenness too? And you very well may be exactly the woman some man's heart needs most. Your joy, your desire to find hope in even the most difficult situations of life? Mind my words, my dear, anygoodman should find your heart a treasure to possess.”
