She clasped her hands in front of her. “I will return to work, and we will talk this through more later. We have to come up with some way to fix this situation,” Layla could not think of anything that would save their house and the store. She gritted her teeth, trying to hide her disappointment from her father.
“Yes, yes, a fine plan,” her father agreed and reclined back onto the bed. It was clear the energy he expended telling his tale had left him feeling exhausted.
Layla stepped out into the hall and closed her father’s bedroom door firmly behind her. Looking to the heavens, she uttered a silent prayer. “Lord, please guide me. Show me what I am to do next.”
Chapter One
Layla rose early dressed quickly before walking hurriedly past her father’s room, careful not to make a sound. It had been two days since he confessed his deeds, and even though she cared for his needs by bringing him water and his meals regularly, they had spoken little. She was so hurt by his actions that she had been reluctant to make small talk with him. On his end, he seemed to be staying in bed because there was no place else he’d rather be. Layla felt ashamed of the way he was avoiding the mess he had created.
Her long brown skirt rustled as she swept down the hall. She moved eagerly into the sitting room and sat in a maroon-colored wing-back chair. Taking the Bible from the small table where she left it the night before, she opened it onto her lap. She hoped that she would find solace or even an answer in her reading.
While she could have always procured a new one from the general store downstairs, Layla treasured this tome that had been by her mother’s side throughout her final days. Over the last two days, she had spent her fair share of hours devoted to the text.
She paused in her reading to gaze out the second-story window.Tell me what to do, God. Please.She had combed through some of her favorite passages, as well as ones she didn’t know by heart, and yet she was still feeling like her next move was unclear. She prayed that the Lord would speak to her and help her decide what the best possible thing she could do for herself and her father was.
Fingertip poised over the scripture in the thin pages of the Bible, she returned to the marked spot. She read Ephesians chapter five, verse two aloud: “‘And walk in love, just as Christ also loved you and gave Himself up for us.’” Layla pondered this concept.What should I do? Is there a sacrifice I can make that will save my father from ruin and make it so he might be able to keep his home and the store?
The thoughts clogged Layla’s mind. She knew she wanted and needed to help her father, but at what cost?His debts must be paid. He could not afford to lose the house or the store, so what do I have that I could possibly give?
Considering this shrewd Mr. Flint her father mentioned, she recognized he must be the same man she overheard folks in town gossiping about a few months prior.
Mark Flint had once been married to a woman named Trudie. After the woman gave birth to a son, she struggled to bond with her child, and the situation worsened when Trudie left the man and the child altogether. If the rumor was to be believed, part of Trudie’s motivation to leave was that the boy was declared blind, and she had been either unwilling or unable to care for the baby. Layla didn’t know which rumor was the truth of the matter.
“Poor soul,” Layla whispered, thinking of the baby. She carefully closed her Bible. Instead of returning it to the table, she moved it to the shelf in its proper place.
Layla walked to the kitchen, collecting a frilly white apron from the drawer and tying it snugly around her brown skirt. She thought,If Mr. Flint is caring for a babe all by himself, he may require some assistance. Perhaps I could offer my help.The idea rallied Layla.
Her own mother had struggled with being blind the last two years of her life. It was a challenge Layla wouldn’t wish on anyone, especially a young child, but she also knew from working with her mother that the difficulties of this physical hindrance could be tackled and overcome.
She was going to work a shift at the general store, and it would be her responsibility to prepare the shop before the townsfolk arrived that morning. Layla rushed down the stairs to the general store.
“Father!” she yelled, skidding to a stop at the bottom of the steps. She had not expected him to be awake or out of his room that morning. He had not left the room over the last two days, but here he was now, standing in the middle of the store, arranging several bolts of cloth into a pleasing display. “What are you doing here?” Layla asked, her forehead scrunching in confusion.
“I’m working,” her father shrugged simply, never taking his eyes from his task.
“I see that, Father, but I didn’t realize that you would be out of bed today and so—”
“A body has to get out of bed sometimes.” He shrugged his shoulders helplessly. Moving away from the bolts of cloth, he stepped back toward the counter that ran along the far side of the store. “Layla, behind the counter there, I’ve got some heavy sacks of sugar that need to be moved. Would you mind lending a hand?”
“Of course not, Papa,” Layla said quickly, moving toward the sacks. She squatted and placed both of her hands underneath one of the bags and hefted it with some effort. “Where did you want me to put these?” she asked, blowing a stray strand of dark hair away from her eyes. She scanned the already crowded store. Shelves were fully stocked with glass jars containing vegetables and fruit. Seeds were in neat pouches with gardening tools lined up next to them.
“Over here,” he replied and moved away from where the linens, wool, and linsey-woolsey bolts of cloth were now piled. Layla made a face, and Emmett explained quickly, “I thought that the womenfolk who come in here to look at patterns and cloth might be tempted to pick up some sugar if it’s at hand. Should entice them to buy it, I’m thinking.”
Layla didn’t think it made much sense to put the dry goods next to the clothing, but she agreed to her father’s plan so she could put down the heavy bag of sugar.
She walked back and forth, rearranging the sugar bags so that shoppers would be compelled to purchase them. Her father threw the last bag down on the pile and turned to Layla. Simultaneously, he wiped his brow using a small white handkerchief while she raised her apron to do the same.
“Father,” Layla said cautiously. While working, she thought more closely about the idea she had to settle her father’s debts and was ready to share it with him. Though only a matter of minutes passed as she moved the bags of sugar, she felt as though it had been hours. She was overwhelmed by the situation that loomed over them. She rather feared that Mr. Flint would appear at the door any moment and demand payment.
“Yes, sweet girl,” Emmett replied. He patted the handkerchief across his temples, moving his feathery brown hair out of the way as he moved from left to right.
“I’ve been thinking about our predicament, and I think I’ve come up with a plan that will help alleviate the situation.” Sweat beaded down the sides of her face, and she lifted the frills on her apron to swipe at them. She was nervous that her solution, even though it required a great deal of sacrifice on her part, wouldn’t be acceptable. What if Father forbids her from moving forward with it? What if it was unsatisfactory in Mr. Flint’s eyes?
“Oh?” her father asked, not really paying attention. His eyes were locked on the front door, and Layla wondered if he imagined Mr. Flint striding through them as well. He moved back behind the counter to arrange buttons and hooks along the countertop.
“Father,” Layla said, trying to keep her voice level but desperately wanting to gain his attention. “I believe I have come up with a solution.”
Emmett raised his bushy eyebrows and waited for Layla to speak. She clasped her hands together to keep herself from fidgeting, and she plunged into her recitation.
