Willems reading some scriptures, talking a little bit, andthen all of them singing a song or two together. Coming to church, though, meant being with a slew of people she didn’t know. Being gawked at. Judged maybe. But how could she say no to the woman who treated her so good? Besides, she’d have a chance to see the others and catch up with them. Not even Miss Willems had managed to get away and check on everybody in the last couple of days. Mrs. Beasley flew into an ugly dither anytime Miss Willems mentioned needing to see to her other responsibilities. So Cora could sit through a sermon if it meant getting to talk a bit with the people she considered her only friends.
The moment the service ended, the poor farm residents rushed at Miss Willems as if she were a stream and they were dying of thirst. Cora watched the woman hug each resident in turn, laughing even while tears filled her eyes. Longing flooded Cora’s frame. Ma had never hugged her, not even when she was little. The one time Cora had let somebody hug her, it had felt so good she’d done things she shouldn’t have. So as much as she wanted to hug—to be hugged—she hung back until they were all done.
“Miss Willems, Miss Willems!” Florie danced in place, her yellow braids flopping. “Miz Tatum says you an’ Cora an’ all the others”—she swept her arm to indicate the group—“can come to her place for lunch so’s we can spend the day together.”
Joe pressed forward, his hands clasped beneath his chin. “You’ll come, won’tcha, Miss Willems?”
Miss Willems smoothed Joe’s cowlick into place. “Of course we’ll come.”
The others murmured happily, and Cora couldn’t resist a little crow of exultation. Mrs. Beasley didn’t serve a noon meal on Sunday, so she’d told them as they’d hustled out the door that they wouldn’t be needed back until four to get supper started. Hours away from the boardinghouse and its dictatorial owner! Hours with the poor farm residents! Cora couldn’t think of anything better. Except not being in a family way without the benefit of a husband.
Little Florie tucked her hand in Cora’s and beamed upward. “Let’s go, Cora!”
Tears stung Cora’s eyes. The child was so young. So innocent. So welcoming. But soon—sooner than she wanted to consider—this little girl would be encouraged to stay away from her. Because once Miss Willems and the others learned about her shame, they’d want nothing to do with her, just like Ma.
Louisa stepped to Cora’s other side and slipped her arm around her waist. “While we walk to the banker’s place, you tell me how you and Miss Willems’ve been getting along over at the Beasley Boardinghouse. I hear tell that woman’s got a parlor with furniture nice as anything the town’s ever seen.”
Truth be told, the one time Cora had set foot in the parlor, Mrs. Beasley had screeched, “Out! Out! For payin’ guests only!” But she could tell Louisa plenty about the boardinghouse’s cantankerous owner. She opened her mouth to launch a list of complaints, but a proverb Miss Willems quoted when Cora complained about Mrs. Beasley— “He that is void of wisdom despiseth his neighbour: but a man of understanding holdeth his peace” —stilled her tongue. Soon enough these people she admired would learn how void of wisdom she truly was, but until then she could hold her peace.
She sent Louisa a bright smile. “You heard rightly. That parlor’s just about the prettiest room I ever did see.”
Chapter 7
Christina squeezed Mrs. Tatum’s hand as they paused beside the door leading to the porch. “Thank you so much for your kind hospitality. We all enjoyed ourselves.”
Afternoon sunlight bounced off the edges of the door’s oval beveled glass and created a halo above the woman’s crown of pure white braids. She and her husband had both been angels to the poor farm residents today, allowing them a time to visit and relax. And the dinner they’d been
The moment the service ended, the poor farm residents rushed at Miss Willems as if she were a stream and they were dying of thirst. Cora watched the woman hug each resident in turn, laughing even while tears filled her eyes. Longing flooded Cora’s frame. Ma had never hugged her, not even when she was little. The one time Cora had let somebody hug her, it had felt so good she’d done things she shouldn’t have. So as much as she wanted to hug—to be hugged—she hung back until they were all done.
“Miss Willems, Miss Willems!” Florie danced in place, her yellow braids flopping. “Miz Tatum says you an’ Cora an’ all the others”—she swept her arm to indicate the group—“can come to her place for lunch so’s we can spend the day together.”
Joe pressed forward, his hands clasped beneath his chin. “You’ll come, won’tcha, Miss Willems?”
Miss Willems smoothed Joe’s cowlick into place. “Of course we’ll come.”
The others murmured happily, and Cora couldn’t resist a little crow of exultation. Mrs. Beasley didn’t serve a noon meal on Sunday, so she’d told them as they’d hustled out the door that they wouldn’t be needed back until four to get supper started. Hours away from the boardinghouse and its dictatorial owner! Hours with the poor farm residents! Cora couldn’t think of anything better. Except not being in a family way without the benefit of a husband.
Little Florie tucked her hand in Cora’s and beamed upward. “Let’s go, Cora!”
Tears stung Cora’s eyes. The child was so young. So innocent. So welcoming. But soon—sooner than she wanted to consider—this little girl would be encouraged to stay away from her. Because once Miss Willems and the others learned about her shame, they’d want nothing to do with her, just like Ma.
Louisa stepped to Cora’s other side and slipped her arm around her waist. “While we walk to the banker’s place, you tell me how you and Miss Willems’ve been getting along over at the Beasley Boardinghouse. I hear tell that woman’s got a parlor with furniture nice as anything the town’s ever seen.”
Truth be told, the one time Cora had set foot in the parlor, Mrs. Beasley had screeched, “Out! Out! For payin’ guests only!” But she could tell Louisa plenty about the boardinghouse’s cantankerous owner. She opened her mouth to launch a list of complaints, but a proverb Miss Willems quoted when Cora complained about Mrs. Beasley— “He that is void of wisdom despiseth his neighbour: but a man of understanding holdeth his peace” —stilled her tongue. Soon enough these people she admired would learn how void of wisdom she truly was, but until then she could hold her peace.
She sent Louisa a bright smile. “You heard rightly. That parlor’s just about the prettiest room I ever did see.”
Chapter 7
Christina squeezed Mrs. Tatum’s hand as they paused beside the door leading to the porch. “Thank you so much for your kind hospitality. We all enjoyed ourselves.”
Afternoon sunlight bounced off the edges of the door’s oval beveled glass and created a halo above the woman’s crown of pure white braids. She and her husband had both been angels to the poor farm residents today, allowing them a time to visit and relax. And the dinner they’d been
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