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*22* Games
*Juliet*
“Come on, little one,” I coo, gently scooping my still napping daughter into my arms. Julia gives an irritable moan, then begins a tired hiccupping cry. Patting her on the back and rocking, I tuck her against my shoulder and soothe, “Ooh, I’m so sorry. I know, you’re not ready to get up yet. It’s oka—.”
“Juliet!” Sam calls from downstairs. “We need to leave now or we’ll be late!”
Rolling my eyes, I heave a sigh. “For pity’s sake, Sam, it’s just a game. You’ll be there early to warm up anyway.”
“Juliet, I swear, if I have to come up ther—.”
Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, I drape a light blanket over Julia as she sucks her thumb, then give him a pointed glare, staring down my nose
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The Work of Grace *23* Battles
*Sam* “Bill!” I shout over the roar of the fires, “get these people out of the way! We can’t get the trucks back to the pump to refill the tanks!” Nodding, he pushes the gathered crowd of mostly women and children to one side to give me time to get the truck through, but even I know it’s a futile effort. As if the high winds are fed by the fire the way it’s fed by them, they’re pushing the flames faster and hotter, and the roaring blaze is gobbling up everything in its path. The best we can hope is to cripple it near the east end of Main, before it gets to the Gothic church built in the 1840s. The fire chief has a crew with axes taking down the trees lining the church’s small cemetery and they’ve flooded the grounds by emptying the rectory water tank, perched up the hill behind the church to protect it. Still, twice already we’ve had to pull one
The Work of Grace *24* In the Wake
*Sam* My eyes are still gritty and my nose and throat sore from the blowing smoke and ash and fighting the township fire yesterday, but I collect the paper at the end of the drive and read the front page story on the veranda while Juliet’s still upstairs, getting ready for church. “Fire Destroys Township’s Historic Main Street” by Margie Brennan “A massive fire destroyed nearly three-quarters – the entire west and majority of the east side – of the Main Street historic businesses and buildings on Saturday. “Approximately 13 businesses burned down in the fire, including the Coady Bank, the newly renovated opera house and theater, Reid’s General Store, Dunn’s Drugstore and Medicines, the three-story men’s clothing and boot shop and the ice cream parlor, both owned by D.F. Palmer, three ladies’ dress shops, the Pet
The Work of Grace *25* Tournament
*Juliet* “The Coadys aren’t staying. Maxwell Coady says they’re moving north near his wife’s family.” Margie sits on one corner of my blanket, cleaning the lens on her camera and talking about the township’s leaders and their rebuilding meetings since Main Street was all but leveled a couple weeks ago. Out on the baseball field, the teams are warming up before their rematch for the baseball tournament between the four townships that intersect here, and my eyes follow Sam as he throws the ball around to his teammates, fielding when it’s returned. “But Pat’s been fixing up the grocery store ever since. He’s almost done.” Alice occupies another blanket corner, rocking her youngest sleeping over her shoulder, but leans forward and gives a light smack to the hand of one of her children when our new shepherd pup give a pained yip. “Gently when you touch the puppy,” she scolds h
The Work of Grace *26* Post-game
*Sam*Carrying Julia’s baby bag on one arm and the puppy tucked under the other, Juliet unlocks the mudroom door when we get home, calling over her shoulder as Julia darts down the veranda towards the porch swing. “Julia, come inside now.”“Swing!” Julia shouts back, as if in explanation.Removing the keys from the knob, Juliet calls again, “No, not right now. Come inside.” As she opens the door, the most delicious savory smell drifts out, assaulting both our senses, and breathing deep, we take it in gladly. My stomach seconds our assessment with a loud rumbling growl.Along the veranda, Julia’s stopped, but her little face is screwed up in angry rebellion and she actually stomps her foot, balling her little fists when Juliet tells her ‘no’. It’s all I can do not to laugh. Knowing how
The Work of Grace *27* Anniversary
*Sam*I know Julia must be exhausted if she missed a nap this afternoon, but she still plays in the bath for nearly a half hour. Splashing and squealing when I get her with the squirty bath toys, together, we make up adventure stories for Floaty the sea turtle, Whittford the whale and Sally seal she keeps in the bath, though mostly the story-telling falls to me. I’m tempted to ask who came up with the names, then decide I probably don’t want to know.I’m on the verge of wondering how Juliet ever manages to get our daughter in bed when abruptly Julia’s done and asks to get out. It takes another fifteen minutes to gently comb through her jet black hair, twist it into a braid and get her to brush her teeth. Then she zips into her bedroom to pick out her bedtime stories while I straighten up the bathroom and dry up the splashes.As I descend the stairs a half hour later, it’s to the sweet sound of Juliet’s voice, singing True Love in a perfect harmony with Bing Crosby playing softly on the
The Work of Grace *28* Two Steps Forward
*Sam*“To getting to ‘yes’!” Stew raises his pint in the air and my brothers and I clink ours against it, Randall beaming brightest of us all. “I still can’t believe she said yes. Took you long enough, Randy.”“The timing’s not my fault,” Randall replies. “Debi wasn’t quite so easy to convince that leaving the city for life on a farm was the thing to do. You three got lucky.”“To getting lucky!” Stew toasts, drunkenly, laughing as we all heartily chime in on that one. Our raucous table draws attention, and at the end of the bar behind us, Basil and Jack Mueller turn on their stools, and raising their shot glasses, toast to Randall too.As the summer’s worn on, life’s resumed a new normal. Several of us men work on a regular basis rebuilding the Main Street shops for those merchant families who opted to remain. There’s been little progress figuring out who started the fire that wiped most of it out, but it has been determined that it was deliberately set.Which painted a bullseye on Jun
The Work of Grace *29* Veneer
*Juliet*“Oh, my word,” I giggle, delightedly staring up at the great steamer, Isle Royale, as we make our way along the dock to the ship’s gates, and beyond them, the gangway aboard. “It’s a beast of a vessel, isn’t it?” I hadn't expected it to be, but I'm excited at the prospect of this trip with Sam.The ship has been remodeled in recent years, stripped of its turn of the century Art Deco ornament and streamlined into the Art Moderne style that became popular during the Depression, the war years and after. Its aerodynamic pure-line concept gives the impression of motion and speed even though its not moving using cylindrical forms and long horizontal windowing. I have to admit it certainly does look sleek and modern.The vessel’s capable of berthing two hundred eighty-eight passengers and carrying another eighty-six crew in addition to accommodating an entire train—thirty-two boxcars on four tracks in the lower deck. At least that's what Sam's told me. A couple times now, though it's
The Work of Grace *30* Facades
*Sam*The dining room is bustling with fellow passengers, accomplished ladies and fine gentlemen, graciously nodding to one another as they pass on the way to or from their seats. At the head of one table sits the middle-aged florid-faced captain, smiling courteously as passengers are escorted to their tables, occasionally rising to escort a dowager to her seating and smile condescendingly at the younger unattended misses.The tables are already spread with a substantial amount of food—washed fruits, some peeled by the kitchen staff or plucked from their stems, hot breads and delicate saucers of molded pats of cream butter, interspersed with tiny settings of sugar and cream, low bowls of various sauces and crystal goblets of iced water beside flutes for champagne. Along the periphery of the lavish room, ice sculptures set in extravagant floral arrangements full of hothouse orchid and lily blooms finish the decorations, their soft fragrance drifting lightly in the air as if scenting the
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