like the others in her church. A small gift shop next to the station caught his eye as the little girl raced inside to show someone her choice. He still needed a gift for his mother…
A pretty woman greeted him as he entered. As he stepped in the door, he saw the woman admire the child’s candy bar and nibble a corner generously offered by the girl. Her hair hung to the middle of her back in auburn waves, and contrasted with her green floral dress, it was an attractive sight. She clearly belonged to the Brethren .
The gift shop was bright and pleasant. Everything seemed arranged as though a cluttered home rather than a store. He saw throw pillows, afghans, lamps, and wall pictures in the front room. The next room was decorated like a kitchen with hand thrown pottery, kitchen towels, aprons, and reproductions of antique things. All through the shop, each room connected with the next, until he found his way back in the front room.
Though usually not much of a shopper, the store was an unusual experience for him. He enjoyed the homey feel of interesting things scattered around to tempt customers. Eventually, he bought the wool afghan he’d first fingered when he entered the store. It was amazingly soft, a gorgeous heathery purple, and the kind of thing his mother could never have afforded. Her household items were discount store bargains—cheap things that merely imitated the finer things in life.
The woman wrapped his purchase carefully. When she saw the name on Matt’s credit card, she smiled. “You’re the man who has been helping out at the Argosy’s. I’m so glad. I know that sounds odd coming from a stranger, but they need friends. I’d love to meet them. If you talk to them soon, would you let them know that they’re always welcome in our store? We’re the Wheatleys—John and Rose.”
Matt gave her a gratified smile and signed the slip. As he stepped through the door, Mrs. Wheatley called to him. “Um, Mr. Rushby—”
He paused again and looked back at the woman. “Please tell the Argosys that we’re not looking for new customers. We’d just like to offer our friendship.”
Five
The sounds of the city assaulted his senses as Matt rolled his suitcase down the walkway leading to his apartment building. Neighbors called out to him, sirens screamed in the distance, and horns blared almost as loudly. The constant beat of hip-hop thundered seemingly from nowhere.
He’d been afraid that he’d want to get back on another plane and return to Argosy Junction the moment he entered his “real world,” but the familiar has a pull on all of us that the ideal can’t possibly attempt. He bounced his suitcase up familiar stairs, dragged it through dingy corridors, and finally through the door that had been home for most of Matt’s life.
“I fly two thousand miles to see you guys, and I don’t even get a hello?” Matt smirked as he waited for his parents to notice him over the din of the TV set. He hadn’t missed that. How had he not missed TV? His mind wanted to ponder the question, but his mother’s arms, his father’s jokes, and the familiar sights of home sent it to another part of his memory for later contemplation.
He regaled them with stories of ferocious sheep, and then confessed that he’d just been a panty-waisted coward. He promised pictures of his work during shearing were forthcoming, and he passed out his gifts. Jake Rushby tossed on a t-shirt, sweatshirt, and ball cap, all emblazoned with the Argosy Ranch insignia, and insisted on hearing all about the ranch. Carol, without any attempt to hide her mirth at the story Matt told, fingered her afghan and marveled at wool that didn’t itch.
Saturday arrived before Matt realized that Friday had ended. His arrival blurred into stories of life on the Argosy Ranch, and before he knew what happened, he collapsed into bed still exhausted after a hard week’s work and the beginning effects of jet lag. His sleep, however, was
A pretty woman greeted him as he entered. As he stepped in the door, he saw the woman admire the child’s candy bar and nibble a corner generously offered by the girl. Her hair hung to the middle of her back in auburn waves, and contrasted with her green floral dress, it was an attractive sight. She clearly belonged to the Brethren .
The gift shop was bright and pleasant. Everything seemed arranged as though a cluttered home rather than a store. He saw throw pillows, afghans, lamps, and wall pictures in the front room. The next room was decorated like a kitchen with hand thrown pottery, kitchen towels, aprons, and reproductions of antique things. All through the shop, each room connected with the next, until he found his way back in the front room.
Though usually not much of a shopper, the store was an unusual experience for him. He enjoyed the homey feel of interesting things scattered around to tempt customers. Eventually, he bought the wool afghan he’d first fingered when he entered the store. It was amazingly soft, a gorgeous heathery purple, and the kind of thing his mother could never have afforded. Her household items were discount store bargains—cheap things that merely imitated the finer things in life.
The woman wrapped his purchase carefully. When she saw the name on Matt’s credit card, she smiled. “You’re the man who has been helping out at the Argosy’s. I’m so glad. I know that sounds odd coming from a stranger, but they need friends. I’d love to meet them. If you talk to them soon, would you let them know that they’re always welcome in our store? We’re the Wheatleys—John and Rose.”
Matt gave her a gratified smile and signed the slip. As he stepped through the door, Mrs. Wheatley called to him. “Um, Mr. Rushby—”
He paused again and looked back at the woman. “Please tell the Argosys that we’re not looking for new customers. We’d just like to offer our friendship.”
Five
The sounds of the city assaulted his senses as Matt rolled his suitcase down the walkway leading to his apartment building. Neighbors called out to him, sirens screamed in the distance, and horns blared almost as loudly. The constant beat of hip-hop thundered seemingly from nowhere.
He’d been afraid that he’d want to get back on another plane and return to Argosy Junction the moment he entered his “real world,” but the familiar has a pull on all of us that the ideal can’t possibly attempt. He bounced his suitcase up familiar stairs, dragged it through dingy corridors, and finally through the door that had been home for most of Matt’s life.
“I fly two thousand miles to see you guys, and I don’t even get a hello?” Matt smirked as he waited for his parents to notice him over the din of the TV set. He hadn’t missed that. How had he not missed TV? His mind wanted to ponder the question, but his mother’s arms, his father’s jokes, and the familiar sights of home sent it to another part of his memory for later contemplation.
He regaled them with stories of ferocious sheep, and then confessed that he’d just been a panty-waisted coward. He promised pictures of his work during shearing were forthcoming, and he passed out his gifts. Jake Rushby tossed on a t-shirt, sweatshirt, and ball cap, all emblazoned with the Argosy Ranch insignia, and insisted on hearing all about the ranch. Carol, without any attempt to hide her mirth at the story Matt told, fingered her afghan and marveled at wool that didn’t itch.
Saturday arrived before Matt realized that Friday had ended. His arrival blurred into stories of life on the Argosy Ranch, and before he knew what happened, he collapsed into bed still exhausted after a hard week’s work and the beginning effects of jet lag. His sleep, however, was
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