Betsy's Return Read online

  “Excuse me,” Ruby Miller said as she stepped up beside Betsy, “but I was wondering if I might speak to you a minute.”

  Betsy nodded. “Of course. Were you wanting to sing a special song at our canal service next Sunday?”

  Ruby’s face turned pink, and she fanned her face with her hands. “Oh my, no. I’d scare folks away if I tried to sing a solo.”

  Betsy smiled at the middle-aged woman and gently squeezed her arm. “You wouldn’t have to sing a solo. You could do a duet with me or someone else from the congregation.”

  Ruby shook her head. “My husband says I squawk like a chicken whenever I sing, so I wouldn’t think of embarrassing anyone by asking them to do a duet with me.”

  “So what did you wish to speak with me about?”

  Ruby leaned closer to Betsy and whispered, “I was hoping you and your father might come to supper at our place one night next week.”

  “It’s nice of you to ask, but I don’t think Papa’s up to going anywhere right now.” Betsy gestured to the empty pews. “You’ve probably noticed he hasn’t been in church for the last couple of weeks.”

  Ruby nodded. “I’m sorry he’s not doing any better. We’re all praying for him, you know.”

  “We appreciate that.”

  “Would your father be okay with you coming to dinner without him? I could ask someone to sit with him while you’re gone, if that would help.” Ruby touched Betsy’s shoulder. “You really do need a break once in a while.”

  “I’ll think about it and let you know.” Betsy offered Ruby what she hoped was a pleasant smile.

  “I’ll stop by your house on Tuesday for an answer, and if you decide to accept my invitation, we’ll have you over for supper on Friday evening.”

  Ruby walked away, and a few minutes later Pastor William showed up. “Was Ruby talking to you about the music for our canal service next week?”

  Betsy shook her head. “She had something else on her mind.”

  “I see. Well, I hope you’ll be able to take part in the services. I would like it if you brought your zither along to accompany the songs.”

  “As long as my father isn’t any worse and I can find someone to spend the afternoon with him, I’ll be there,” Betsy said with a nod.

  “It would be wonderful if he felt up to going along that day.”

  “Yes, it would.”

  “Does the doctor think the new treatment is helping at all?”

  Betsy shrugged. “He’s not sure. There are days when Papa seems a bit stronger and doesn’t have as much chest pain, but other days he can barely walk across the room without having to stop every few seconds to catch his breath.”

  “The last time I spoke with your father, he informed me that he’s ready to die if the Lord chooses to take him home rather than heal his heart.”

  A shiver started at the base of Betsy’s neck and ran all the way down her spine. She could hardly think about Papa dying, much less speak the words.

  “I apologize if I’ve spoken out of turn. I can see that you’re shaken.” Pastor William nodded toward the organ bench. “Would you like to sit awhile?”

  “I’m fine.” Betsy grabbed the hymnbook from the end of the organ where she had placed it after the service. “Should we pick some songs for next Sunday now?”

  “Yes. Yes, of course.”

  Chapter 14

  “I’m sorry you couldn’t come over to our place for supper last week,” Ruby said to Betsy as they both pulled their buckboards into a clearing near the section of the canal closest to the lock tender’s house.

  Betsy glanced over at her father, who sat in the seat beside her. “Papa wasn’t feeling well that night, and—”

  “I tried to get her to go, but my daughter can be so stubborn sometimes.” Papa nodded at Betsy. “I love you and appreciate your dedication, but you worry about me too much.”

  Betsy couldn’t argue with that. She did worry about her father and wanted him to get well so they could spend more time together.

  “I’m glad you’re feeling up to attending our church service and picnic at the canal today,” Ruby said. “Sure wish my husband would have been able to come.”

  “Is Clem sick?” Betsy asked. “I didn’t see him at our service in town.”

  “He’s not sick, but yesterday morning that determined man put a kink in his back when he tried to move a huge rock in our backyard.” Ruby pursed her lips. “He was still hurtin’ this morning and didn’t want to get out of bed. Said I should go to church without him.”

  “Clem should have asked some of the men from church to help him move that rock,” Betsy’s father put in. “That’s how we got our fence put up. Isn’t that right, Betsy?”

  She nodded and reached over to touch his hand. “Are you sure you’re up to this outing today?”

  He squeezed her fingers. “I’m fine, and I wouldn’t have missed seeing my canal friends here—not to mention sampling some of the tasty food the ladies from church have brought along to share.”

  “I baked some apple pies,” Ruby said. “That’s always been a favorite of yours.”

  He grinned and patted his stomach. “Yes, Ruby, I do love your sweet apple pies.”

  Betsy smiled. The fact that Papa seemed so pleased gave her hope that he might be feeling better. If God provided a miracle and healed Papa’s heart, he might be able to start preaching again. Of course, now there was a new pastor standing in his pulpit, so either William would have to leave or Papa would need to look for some other church to pastor. The thought of them moving away from Walnutport didn’t set well with Betsy, and thinking about the new pastor leaving wasn’t much better. Betsy wouldn’t have admitted it to anyone, but in the short time Pastor William had been in town, she’d become quite fond of him. He seemed kind, caring, and smart, and he was extremely good-looking. She was sure he would make a fine husband.

  Betsy’s shoulders tensed as a pain shot up her neck, and her musings came to a halt. What on earth had she been thinking? Friendship was all she could offer right now, and she was sure the pastor saw her only as a friend as well.

  “Shall we climb down from the buckboard and join the others?” Papa asked.

  Betsy nodded. “Let me put a blanket on the grass so you’ll have a comfortable place to sit, and then I’ll come back to the buckboard to get you.”

  “I’m not an invalid, Betsy. And I don’t plan to sit on a blanket all day.”

  Betsy knew her father’s words weren’t meant to be harsh, but she felt the sting of them nonetheless. “I just don’t want you overdoing it. This is the first day in a long while that you’ve been outside the house.”

  He patted her arm. “I’ll be fine.”

  A short time later as Betsy, her father, and Ruby headed for the canal, she spotted Mike and Kelly along with their two children: Anna, who was four, and Marcus, who had just turned two.

  “Pastor Nelson, it’s so good to see you,” Mike said, taking Betsy’s father by the arm.

  “I wouldn’t have missed coming here today for anything,” Papa replied. The two men wandered off, Ruby joined Freda Hanson, who stood nearby, and Betsy followed Kelly and her children across the grass.

  “I think I’m going to set out my blanket and picnic basket before the service begins,” Kelly said. “That way we’ll be sure to have a good place to sit when it’s time to eat.”

  Betsy nodded. “Guess I’ll do the same.”

  The children sat on the grass and watched as Kelly and Betsy spread out their blankets. They’d just gotten everything situated when Kelly’s mother and sister—Dorrie and Sarah—showed up. Sarah’s three children—Sam Jr., age six; Willis, who was four; and two-year-old Helen—tagged along behind them.

  Kelly’s children scurried over to their grandmother, and she gave them each a hug. “I’m so glad the new pastor has decided to hold services down here by the canal.” She smiled at Betsy. “Since your father retired from preaching, those of us who spend most of the week on ou
r boats have missed this time of singing, Bible teaching, and fellowship.”

  “That’s right,” Sarah said with a nod. “Even though my family usually makes it to church in town most Sundays, we’ve always enjoyed the services held here along the water.”

  “Mike and I have enjoyed that, too,” Kelly agreed.

  “Betsy, did you bring your zither?” Dorrie asked.

  Betsy nodded and pointed to the leather case she’d set on one end of the blanket. “I’m just waiting for our pastor to arrive.”

  Sarah glanced at the group of people who had already congregated. “I would think he would have been here by now. I hope he didn’t change his mind about holding the service down here.”

  “I’m sure Pastor William is coming,” Betsy said. “He helped me pick out the songs we’re going to sing today, and he seemed excited about the opportunity to preach to the boatmen.”

  Kelly poked Betsy gently on the arm and motioned to the left. “Here he comes now, and he’s got his housekeeper with him.”

  ***

  William was amazed at how many people had gathered along the grassy banks near the canal. He recognized several from church, but lots of faces were new to him.

  “I don’t see why you insisted that I be here for this,” Mrs. Bevens said through tight lips as she tromped through the tall grass beside him. “I attended services at your church this morning; that ought to be good enough.”

  “I thought you might use this time as an opportunity to get to know the people in the community a little better,” he said, patting her arm. “It’s a warm, sunny afternoon with not much humidity, and it’s the perfect day for a picnic.”

  “Perfect for the ants and buzzing insects maybe.” Mrs. Bevens lifted the edge of her long, gray skirt and frowned. “If I get grass stains on my dress, it will be your fault.”

  William clenched his teeth and kept on walking. He was nervous enough about conducting his first outdoor service, and he didn’t need Mrs. Bevens’s negative attitude to put a damper on things. He spotted Betsy standing beside Kelly and her sister and was relieved to see that she’d brought her zither along.

  “Should we begin with some singing?” he asked, moving away from Mrs. Bevens and stepping up to Betsy.

  She nodded. “That’s the way Papa always began his services.” She motioned to a log lying a few feet from the towpath. Her father was sitting there with Mike Cooper on one side of him and Sam Turner on the other side.

  “I’m glad your father could make it. I didn’t see him in church this morning, so I assumed he wasn’t feeling well.”

  “He says he’s feeling better today, but he knew it would be too long of a day if he went to church in town and came here, too.” Betsy smiled. “So he chose to attend this service and the picnic that will follow.”

  “Our dad’s here today, too,” Sarah put in.

  “That’s right. Preacher Nelson led Papa to the Lord some time ago,” Kelly added. “He’s not as comfortable comin’ into town to the fancy church building, but ever since he accepted Christ as his Savior, Papa has enjoyed the services held along the canal.”

  “That’s good to hear. If things go well today, I’ll try to hold services down here on a regular basis.”

  Kelly and Sarah smiled, and Betsy fairly beamed. “I’m ready to get started with the singing whenever you are, Pastor,” she said.

  William moved over to the crowd of people and lifted his hands. “Good afternoon. For those of you who haven’t met me yet, I’m Pastor William Covington, and I’m pleased to see so many of you here today.”

  There were several amens, a few people snickered, and a couple of the canalers shouted, “Nice to meet ya, Preacher!”

  William’s cheeks warmed, and he knew it wasn’t from the summer sun. The people at the church he’d attended in Buffalo were so formal and stuffy compared to these plain, simple folks who weren’t afraid to show enthusiasm or say whatever was on their mind. Nothing William had learned in seminary had prepared him for preaching to a group of unpretentious, uneducated canalers, but he was ready and willing to do the Lord’s work, no matter what it took.

  William opened the service with a word of prayer then announced the first song they would sing: “Shall We Gather at the River?” He nodded at Betsy, and she began to strum her zither. Everyone’s voices blended together as they sang out, “Shall we gather at the river, where bright angel feet have trod, with its crystal tide forever flowing by the throne of God?’”

  William was pleased to see a look of joy on the people’s faces, as they lifted their heads toward the sky and sang with gusto. He led them in two more songs, “What a Friend We Have in Jesus” and “Wonderful Words of Life,” and was about to launch into his sermon when a voice from the crowd shouted, “I would like it if we sang, ‘I Feel Like Traveling On’!”

  William turned to see Hiram Nelson walking toward him, his face fairly glowing and his eyes shimmering with tears. “Of course we can sing that song. Would you like to lead us, Rev. Nelson?”

  Hiram nodded, and in a surprisingly steady voice he began, “‘My heavenly home is bright and fair. I feel like traveling on. Nor pain nor death can enter there. I feel like traveling on.’” He motioned to the crowd, and they joined him on the chorus: “‘Yes, I feel like traveling on. I feel like traveling on. My heavenly home is bright and fair. I feel like traveling on.’”

  When the song ended, Rev. Nelson lifted his hands and looked upward. “I’m ready to go home whenever You’re ready to take me, Lord!”

  Chapter 15

  Betsy didn’t know how she’d managed to sit through Pastor William’s message when the singing ended, because after Papa’s song and him telling God that he was ready to go home to be with Him, she felt numb. Just this morning Papa had told her that he was feeling better. Yet his choice of song and the prayer that followed made it clear that he was ready to die.

  Papa sat on the blanket beside her now, smiling and licking his lips as he ate a chicken wing he’d pulled from the covered dish Betsy had taken from their picnic basket a few minutes ago. Didn’t he realize how much he’d upset her with that song and prayer?

  “This is sure tasty,” he said with a smile. “You’re going to make some man a mighty fine wife some day.”

  Betsy shook her head. “I’m an old maid, Papa, and I’m quite likely to stay one.”

  “You never know what the future holds.” He glanced over at her half-eaten plate of food and frowned. “You’ve barely touched a thing. I can’t eat all this by myself, you know.”

  She shrugged, wishing she felt free to tell her father all the things that were on her mind. “I’m not so hungry right now.”

  His eyebrows furrowed. “How come? Are you feeling sick?”

  “No, I’m not sick.”

  “That’s good to hear.” Papa took another bite of chicken and wiped his mouth on the napkin she’d just handed him. “That young pastor sure preached a good sermon on forgiveness this afternoon, didn’t he?”

  Betsy shifted uncomfortably on the blanket. “I’m ... uh ... glad Pastor William decided to hold services down here.” She didn’t want to admit that she hadn’t heard more than a few words of the pastor’s message. “Several of the boatmen have told me how much they’ve missed the meetings you used to hold along the canal.”

  Her father nodded and reached for the cup of water Betsy had placed on the lid of the picnic basket. “I’m pleased to see such a good turnout, and I’m hoping Pastor William will continue to hold services here on a regular basis.”

  “I’m sure he will, as long as the weather cooperates.” Betsy sighed and set her plate aside.

  He cast her a furtive glance. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  She nodded and offered him what she hoped was a reassuring smile.

  “I can tell by the wrinkles in your forehead that something is bothering you, so you may as well tell me what it is.”

  Betsy drew in a deep breath and released it quickly, glan
cing around to be sure no one sitting nearby was listening. “I’m worried about you, Papa.”

  “Now, Betsy, you know what the Bible says about worry. ‘Therefore I say unto you, Take no thought for your life, what ye shall eat, or what ye shall drink; nor yet for your body, what ye shall put on. Is not the life more than meat, and the body than raiment?’ Matthew 6:25.”

  Betsy grimaced. “I’m not worried about what I shall eat or wear, Papa. After hearing that song you sang earlier and listening to your prayer, I became worried that you might have given up on life and were preparing to die.”

  “We’re all going to die sometime.” Papa reached over and patted her hand. “You must remember that no matter what happens in the days ahead, my life is in God’s hands.”

  Betsy opened her mouth to comment, but he rushed on. “No one but God knows what the future holds, but we do know that our heavenly Father holds the future, so let us remember to be loyal to Him and leave our destiny in His hands.”

  Betsy swallowed hard, trying to dislodge the lump that had formed in her throat. “I know, Papa, and I’ll try not to worry.”

  “That’s my girl,” he said with a wink. “Now why don’t you let your old papa take a nap while you visit with some of your friends?”

  Betsy didn’t feel like visiting with anyone right now, but because she knew her father needed to rest, she gathered up their plates and leftover food, placed them inside the picnic basket, and stood. Smoothing the wrinkles in her long, green skirt, she smiled down at him. “I’ll come back in half an hour to check on you.”

  He reclined on the blanket, placing both hands behind his head. “No need to worry about me. I’ll be fine.”

  ***

  “I’m going over to talk with Rev. Nelson for a bit,” William said to Mrs. Bevens as she began putting away their leftover picnic food. “While I’m gone, why don’t you try to get to know some of the ladies here a little better?”

  Mrs. Bevens’s mouth drooped at the corners. “I’d rather be alone. Maybe I will take a walk along the canal.”