Part 7
The wagon creaked and bumped as they slowly rounded a bend.
Isabel smiled and
tucked her arm through Franz's and rested her head against his shoulder.
"I don't care how slow you go, this time. It gives me more time alone
with you," she sighed happily.
Franz looked down at her and smiled.
They were on their way to Plumfield. After
traveling a few days on the train and hopping rides on wagons, Franz had finally
bought his own wagon and horse, a plain but sturdy ensemble. Franz was
wearing the hat that his friends at Plumfield had given him. By now it was
worn and soiled with use, but still a jaunty and pleasant hat. Franz had
chosen an old Plumfield suit to wear for the occasion of going home, as
Plumfield still felt to him. He would show Dan and the others his
"cowboy" clothes later; for now he wanted to look more as they
remembered him.
They rounded another bend, and there in the
distance stood Plumfield. Franz drove on for a while longer, then stopped
at the entrance. He sat and took it all in: the old gate, the little
incline that pointed towards the friendly yellow house, the green shutters, the
front steps where he had said his goodbyes seemingly so long ago . . . And yet,
it felt like yesterday, and he could imagine the children groaning about their
assignments and whispering in class when they thought he wasn't looking.
For some reason he felt like weeping.
The striped black beetle ambled over the dirt. Nan, lying on her stomach
on the ground, her head propped up on her arms, watched it in fascination.
Its tiny bent legs moved up and down like shifting currents as it crawled.
It had one yellow stripe and two red stripes down its back. She lifted it
onto one finger and let it crawl into her palm. She loved the soft
tickling feeling. She would put it in a jar and show it to Tommy. At
least someone shared her enjoyment for bugs. This was such a pretty
beetle that even Bess might find it interesting, Nan thought—might.
As Nan lifted her head, she noticed
something. A wagon at the entrance of Plumfield. Nan squinted
against the sun. There was a man, wearing a cowboy hat, and a woman, with
dark hair. . . . Wait a minute—that
was—it must be—Franz
and Isabel!
Nan forgot all about the beetle as she ran to the house and yelled through the
open doorway, "Mrs. Jo, everyone! Franz is back!—Isabel's
with him!"
Nan ran toward the wagon, which was coming down
toward Plumfield, now. Nan stopped and waited while they hopped down from
the wagon, then she was in Franz's arms. "Franz, I missed you so
much!"
"I missed you too. I missed everyone,
but you and Mrs. Jo, especially," Franz said.
Isabel hugged Nan after a moment, and then it
seemed that everyone was around them all at once. Shouts of laughter rang
through the afternoon air, and there were many hugs, and even a few tears.
Night came, but still there were warm smiles, chatter, laughter, stories,
questions, and joking. Jo let them talk. This was a special
occasion, and they could sleep in in the morning.
Jo was tired, but she wanted to be outside in the
cool night air for a while.
She listened to the the crickets and stood
silently at the porch railing. The stars were bright and there looked to
be a billion of them, twinkling at her.
God, she thought, I do love You, but
why does my life have to be so hard?
She heard something and turned. Nick
was standing there. Why, God?
His brow was furrowed, his eyes fiery in the
moonlight, his mouth sad. "I want to know why, Jo. Why can't
you marry me?"
Jo bit her lip and looked away. "Nick,
I—you
know I have feelings for you. And this is as difficult for me as it is for
you. But I have to do what God says. Jesus gave His life for me, and
I should be willing to do anything for Him. . . . "
"But why? Marryin' me wouldn't
be against any law, would it? I'm a good man. Well, I try to be, and
I stay out of trouble. I'm not as good as you, I know, but—"
"No, Nick. You don't understand.
I'm not good. None of us are. We're all black and sinful inside, and
often on the outside, too. Goodness has nothing to do with it."
She took a deep breath. "God showed His grace on me and forgave
me my sins. I believe in Him, I love Him, and you don't. It wouldn't
be right for us to be together. I remember the Bible saying something
about being "yoked." I need to read the passage again, but if I
remember it correctly, it said, "be not yoked with unbelievers."
If a believer and an unbeliever marry—they
wouldn't have much in common. They'd be at odds." Jo swallowed
and blinked. "It is against God's commands. I can't do
it."
Nick's
face took on a hard edge. "You can't—or
you won't," he said bitterly. "This's all an excuse,
ain't it? You just don't think I'm good enough, do ya? Well, maybe I
ain't, but don't cover yourself in righteousness! Don't talk about God and
His grace when what you really mean is that you think you're better than
me!" He swiveled on his heel and stomped away.
Jo buried her head in her hands and sobbed.
