One Shining Moment Read online

Lylah was fascinated by her sister-in-law. The English girl had a calmness that most American women lacked. Finally she said, “Well, I’m glad Gavin got a wife like you, Heather. You two are so happy!”

  Heather would have responded, but at that instant the door burst open. Gavin galloped in, Adam clinging to his back and yelling like a banshee. They circled the table, then Gavin gasped, “Help! This kid is wearing me down!”

  “He never gets enough playing, Gavin,” Lylah said ruefully. Then she took Adam from Gavin, ignoring his protests. “You can play after supper,” she promised.

  “No, we’re going to meet’n after supper,” Gavin announced. When he saw the surprise on Lylah’s face, he asked, “Didn’t you know that Owen’s here in Chicago for a revival?”

  “I guess I forgot,” Lylah exclaimed. “But I’d love to go.” She grinned wickedly at Gavin, adding, “Give him something to shoot for—getting his ornery sister right.”

  “He’ll do his best,” Gavin nodded. “He’s doing well, Lylah. The churches of Chicago built a special tabernacle just for Owen’s meeting. There’ll be ten thousand people there tonight.”

  “Don’t you dare warn him we’re coming!” Lylah was fiercely proud of her preacher brother, though she herself had no faith. “He’d make me stand up in front of all those people.”

  “He might tell about how you and Amos and him smoked behind the barn the morning you left the farm to go to Bible school,” Gavin teased. “He loves to tell about that!”

  Lylah shook her head but insisted that Gavin not call Owen. They ate a fine dinner, then left for the tabernacle. When they arrived, she was astonished at the size of the building. “Why, it’s bigger than a stadium!” she exclaimed. “And look at the mob going in! I wish this many people would come to see me in a play!”

  “Come on,” Gavin nodded. “I used my pull to get us some good seats. Come on, Adam,” he added, picking the boy up in his arms. “You’re going to hear some mighty good preaching from your uncle Owen tonight!”

  Lylah and Heather followed Gavin to four seats ten rows from the front. They sat down and watched the place fill up. Lylah had last been to one of Owen’s services in Oklahoma, where the crowd had been no larger than three hundred people gathered under a big tent. Now she watched the seats fill up, making a sea of faces that seemed to blur toward the back.

  Ten minutes after their arrival, a huge choir entered to fill a section behind the platform, and soon the tabernacle resounded with the sound of ten thousand voices singing “Amazing Grace.” Lylah sang along, remembering her days in Bethany Institute when, despite her poor attitude, she’d sung in the school choir. Now as song after song wafted from the crowd, she found herself thinking of those days, and a thought came to her: I never should have left this behind!

  Finally the platform was filled by a group of pastors, many of them poorly dressed. And then Owen came to mount the platform, and Lylah’s heart swelled at the sight of him. He was tall and muscular, his chestnut hair gleaming under the glow of thousands of lights. When he lifted his right arm, she saw the polished steel hook, a reminder of the battle in which he’d lost his hand—and had won the Congressional Medal of Honor.

  She sat stiffly, hearing little, until he got up to preach. He looks so young! she thought, and as he began to preach, she thought back to the days when he’d come in from the fields, tired to the bone. She’d rubbed the back of his neck, and he’d grinned at her wearily, saying, “I sure put a good mule out of work today, Sis!”

  Lylah never remembered much of that sermon, except that over and over again Owen had quoted his text: “Ye must be born again!” It was a sermon she’d heard often, but now as Owen Stuart preached, it became more potent somehow. She felt the power of God flow over the crowd, and when Owen gave the invitation, hundreds got up and moved forward.

  “Where dey going?” Adam asked loudly. Snuggled on Gavin’s lap, he had slept through most of the sermon, but now his eyes were bright with interest. “Can we go wif dem?” he demanded.

  “Not now, but later we’ll go see your uncle Owen,” Lylah whispered.

  They waited until most of the crowd left and then got up stiffly. When they had made their way almost to the platform, Owen lifted his head and spotted them. He came at once to embrace Lylah, who held to him, whispering, “I’m so proud of you, Owen!”

  Owen drew back, his eyes fixed on Lylah. “I’m glad to see you.” Then he turned his eyes on the boy. Seeing Adam’s eyes on the steel hook, he held it out. “Give me a shake, Adam,” he smiled.

  Adam stared at the hook for a long moment, then reached out and took it firmly. Owen laughed, then picked him up. “Come on, let’s go find Allie. And I’ve got a new addition you’ve got to meet—William Lee Stuart!”

  They found Allie with her new baby, and after Lylah had made the proper remarks, Owen took them all out to a restaurant to eat hamburgers. While the others were talking, Gavin found time to have a brief conversation with Lylah. He listened as she told him about the play closing, then added that she was going back to the farm to visit for a time.

  “Good! Wish I could go with you, Lylah,” Gavin said. “Pa needs all the encouragement he can get. Don’t see how he’s endured all the years with Agnes.” He shook his head, thinking of the woman their father had married after the death of his first wife. She was a crude, loose woman who managed to make the visits of the children miserable. “Maybe I’ll take Heather for a visit after the show in Rochester.”

  “Have you seen Amos lately?”

  “About a month ago. He’s worried about Jerry. That young man is a handful!” He looked over at Adam who was stuffing himself joyfully and shook his head. “That’s the easy time—when they’re his age. After they get to be twelve, it’s a battle.”

  Lylah gave Gavin a strange look. “I’ve thought about how much grief I caused our folks. They didn’t get any pleasure out of raising me. All I did was break Ma’s heart.” She lowered her head to stare at the table. “I wish I could go back and do it all over again . . . but I’d probably do it the same way.”

  “Hey, now, that’s no way to talk!” Gavin reached over and put his hand on hers. “You’ve got a fine son, and you’re young enough to make a good life for him. I wish you’d find a good man, quit this acting, and become a wife and mother.”

  Lylah summoned a smile and squeezed his hand. “All the good men I know are named Stuart. If I could find one like you or Owen or Amos, I’d take a chance, but I haven’t seen any.”

  The party broke up, and after Lylah and Adam were in their hotel room they went to bed at once. When Adam was almost asleep beside her, he mumbled, “Mommy, I like Uncle Gavin and Uncle Owen.”

  “That’s good, darling.” She touched his head gently, whispering, “I hope you grow up to be as good as they are.”

  CHRISTIE’S MAN

  Will Stuart drew the bow across the battered fiddle, and as the tune of “Sweet Betsy from Pike” drifted across the afternoon air, his eyes grew soft. I was playing this tune the night I met Marian, he thought. And it was just this time of the year.

  The recollection disturbed him, and he began to play “Greensleeves.” He’d noticed recently that when he thought of his first wife and the love they’d had, it made life as he now had it almost miserable. Can’t no man ever go back to what was . . . but I’d like to. She was a wonderful woman, Marian was. The image of Agnes invaded his thoughts, and his lips drew together into a thin line. Never should have married her . . . been nothing but misery for me and the kids.

  His thoughts were diverted as the sound of hoofbeats came faintly from his left. Resting the fiddle in his lap, he turned to see a fine chestnut stallion come out of the woods. He was taking the ground in giant strides, and Will smiled to see the figure of the young woman astride the big horse. When they reached the rail fence that zigzagged around the pasture, he heard the woman cry, “Come on, Buck!” and the horse took the fence in stride.

  “You’re gonna break your neck, Len
ora, jumpin’ fences like that!” he called out.

  Lenora Stuart laughed aloud and slid down from the steaming horse. She was thirty years old but looked no more than twenty. She was not pretty, for her features were too strong for that, but Will admired her tall straight figure and the ash-blond hair that she allowed to fall down her back. She had hazel eyes, and as she tied the horse to the rail and came up the porch with a graceful movement, there was a peace in her face that Will loved to see.

  “You stop worrying about me, Pa,” she said, bending over to kiss his cheek. “I never fell off a horse in my life.”

  “No, you never did,” Will admitted. She was an enigma to him, for most girls married young in the mountains of Arkansas. But Lenora had never shown a great deal of interest in men, choosing instead to put her energies into the farm. That and church. She was a fervent Christian, and now as Will looked at her, he thought she should have been a boy. She would have been a good preacher, he thought fondly. Maybe as good as Owen.

  The door opened, and Will demanded, “Well, Christie, you’ve spent enough time on that dress—lemme’ take a look at it.”

  Christie Stuart was another daughter who’d put off marriage. At the age of twenty-four, she was termed an old maid by the locals. She had the good looks that Lenora lacked, with a wealth of honey-blond hair and enormous dark blue eyes. She blushed at her father’s greeting, saying, “I needed a new dress, Pa.”

  Will winked at Lenora. “Looks like a man-catchin’ dress to me.” He saw that his words embarrassed Christie and regretted them. This youngest daughter of his was as sensitive as any girl could be, and he changed the subject. “Well, it’s a pretty dress. Your ma couldn’t have done no better.”

  Lenora had not missed the expression on her sister’s face and said, “I wish I could sew like you, Christie. All I can do is plow and grub taters.”

  The three of them sat on the porch, enjoying the late afternoon breeze. They were close, these three, and it was only when Agnes Stuart came out that they fell silent. She gave them a sharp look, then said, “Well, what time is she supposed to be here?”

  The telegram had come the previous day stating that Lylah and Adam would be arriving for a short visit. Will and the young women had been excited, but none of them had missed the sour expression that the news brought to Agnes’s face. She’d said little, but her attitude was clear, for she’d never made any secret of her dislike for Lylah.

  “I guess sometime this afternoon,” Will answered quietly. “Train gets into Fort Smith about noon. Guess she’ll get somebody to bring her in a car.”

  Agnes Stuart had been an attractive young woman, in a sensual way. It had been this sensuality that had enabled her to catch Will Stuart in a weak moment after the death of his first wife. But the years had not been kind to her; time had swelled her until she was overweight, and her face was no longer pretty. She longed for town life, for she hated the country. Any affection that Will or the children had felt for her she’d forfeited by her excesses and her sharp temper.

  It was this cutting temper that surfaced now, for she saw that the three of them were excited about the arrival of Lylah and the boy. Her eyes drew half shut, and she shook her head sharply. “Looks like she’d have more sense than to come home dragging that baby that ain’t got no daddy!”

  Will Stuart was a mild-mannered man, seldom lifting his voice, but at Agnes’s words he abruptly came out of the cane-bottomed chair, sending it to the floor with a rattle that startled the others. He was a tall man, though now at the age of sixty-eight he was slightly stooped. His hair was gray, except for one streak of pure white on the left side. A minie ball had plowed a crease there at the Battle of Five Forks in the Civil War.

  “Don’t you ever say one word agin’ that child—or agin’ Lylah! You hear me talk?”

  Agnes Stuart had never seen Will so angry—nor had his daughters. His mild eyes were blazing, and his fists were clenched. He had been a weak man, unable to say no to liquor—or to women—in his youth. But now a dangerous quality leaped out of him, and Agnes was afraid of him for the first time.

  “Why, Will . . .” she stammered, taking a step backward. “I didn’t mean! . . .”

  Will cut her off sharply, “Say what you want to about me, Agnes, but if you even look crossways at my daughter or my grandson, I’ll kick you off this place so fast it’ll make your head swim!” He kept his eyes fixed on her steadily, then demanded, “You understand that, Agnes?”

  “Y-yes.”

  “That’s good, because I won’t say it twice.”

  Agnes ducked her head, swallowed, then mumbled, “I’ll go see to dinner.”

  As soon as she was out of hearing, Lenora suddenly gave her father a hard hug. “Good! I’m so happy I could scream!”

  Christie had been wide-eyed with astonishment, but now she giggled. “I didn’t know you had it in you, Pa. She’s been talking mean about Lylah and Adam for a long time.”

  Lenora nudged Will in the side. “If she doesn’t behave, give her a good one, Pa!”

  Will forced himself to relax and gave Lenora a curious glance. “I thought you’d tell me to turn the other cheek,” he murmured.

  “That’s if she gave you a slap, Pa,” Lenora nodded firmly. “When she hurts Lylah or Adam, she needs a stick taken to her. Want me to go cut one off the peach tree—like the one you used to use on me?”

  “Don’t guess so,” Will shook his head. “I’ve plumb lost the knack of it.” He looked out over the hills that lifted themselves to the north of the farm, and a fond look came into his eyes. “Sure will be good to see Lylah and the boy!”

  “They’re here, Pa!”

  Christie had been searching for guinea eggs near the barn as a car appeared over the rise. She ran toward the road, and when the big gray touring car pulled to a stop, she was the first to grab the woman who stepped to the ground.

  “Lylah!” she exclaimed, stepping back. “Where’s that nephew of mine?”

  “Right here.” Don Satterfield got out of the Essex, reached up, and lifted Adam out of the car. “Another addition to the Stuart line. How do you like him?”

  Satterfield was the pastor of a church in Fort Smith. He smiled as Will and Lenora came running down the path to greet the newcomers—and noted that Agnes stood on the porch. Poor soul! I wish she’d lose that hateful spirit. She’s her own worst enemy. Then he turned to Will, who was holding the small boy in his arms. “I think he looks like you, Will,” he smiled.

  “I wasn’t never as good-lookin’ as this young’un,” Will protested. He smiled at Lylah, then said quietly, “He’s a fine boy, Daughter.”

  “Thanks, Pa,” Lylah smiled. “I hope he gets some of your musical talent.”

  Will turned to look at Satterfield, saying, “Never knowed a preacher to come when a meal wasn’t on the table. Come in and set.”

  “Don’t mind if I do, Will,” Satterfield nodded. “I want to hear about what all Lylah’s been up to.”

  “Better ask Christie what she’s been up to,” Lenora said. “She’s got a fellow, Reverend.”

  “Is that so? Who’s the lucky fellow, Christie?”

  Christie flushed and mumbled, “Mel Tolliver.”

  Surprise washed across Satterfield’s face, but he quickly smiled and remarked, “Why, Mel’s getting to be quite an upcoming businessman in Fort Smith. He has to come a long way to do his courting, doesn’t he?”

  Christie disliked being the center of attention. “He doesn’t come too often.”

  “But he’s coming for supper tonight,” Lenora put in. “You can look him over, Lylah,” she added slyly. “Talk to him and find out if his intentions are honorable.”

  “Don’t . . . don’t you dare!” Christie burst out, then turned and walked into the house.

  “Lenora, you stop teasing her about her man,” Will admonished. “She’s real shy. Calls herself an old maid.”

  “All right, Pa,” Lenora agreed. “Come on, Lylah, I want to show you the
new foal.”

  “She can see that hoss tomorrow,” Will said. “Come on, let’s see about this here grandson of mine.”

  Lylah allowed them to make over her. She was tired from her long journey and was glad to sit down in the parlor and listen to the busy talk that went on. Don Satterfield came to sit beside her, asking, “What’s new with you, Lylah?”

  Lylah began to tell Don about her activities, but she could not forget that he had once been in love with her. He was middle-aged now and had gained weight—and was still not handsome. However there was a kindness in his face that she’d always been drawn to, so that she wondered, What if I’d have married him? Instantly she knew that it would not have worked. I’d have ruined his life. If there’s one thing I’m not cut out for it’s being a preacher’s wife.

  “I gave you a hard time when I was in Bible school, didn’t I, Don?”

  Satterfield was taken off guard by her sudden remark. He shot a quick glance at her, taking in the classic features, then grinned. “You sure did! Every time I tried to get you involved in some sort of Christian work, you were out smoking behind the church!”

  “I was terrible!”

  “You weren’t ready for Bible school,” Don agreed. He wanted to say something to this beautiful woman but somehow could never find the right approach. He stared up at the calendar on the wall, noting that it was dated 1919, a year old, then said gently, “I pray for you and Adam every day, Lylah. I know it must be hard for you to raise a son in your profession.”

  Lylah’s eyes grew soft. “That’s like you, Don. If everyone were as kind as you . . .” she broke off, for Christie entered the room accompanied by a large young man. “We’ll talk later,” she whispered, then rose to greet the two.

  “This is my sister Lylah, and this is Mel Tolliver, Lylah,” Christie said. She was nervous, and as soon as she had made the introduction, she said, “I’ll go help Lenora and Agnes with the dinner. It’s almost ready.”

  Mel Tolliver, Lylah saw, was a tall man, about thirty, and somewhat overweight. He had blue eyes, thinning blond hair, and a mustache that was a mistake. He grows that thing to cover a weak mouth, Lylah decided, but this was her sister’s first beau, so she set out to charm him. “Don, go help set the table,” she said. “Mel and I need to get acquainted. Sit down, Mel, and tell me about your business.”