Chapter 7

The box was heavy. She should have let them deliver it, but she'd allowed her pride to rule. By the time she got back to Miss Ophelia's house, her arms ached. The steps up to her rooms looked like a mountain. To rest a moment, she put the box down on the walkway.

Even after she carried the box up to her rooms, what then? What path was going to be blocked to her next? She fought against the bitterness that gripped her. A person surely sinned if she allowed bitterness against the Lord to be in her heart. But what about that verse in Psalms that she always had her students memorize?

Delight thyself also in the LORD: and he shall give thee the desires of thine heart.

Hadn't she always followed the Lord, been faithful in service to the church, tried to be a good example to her students? Was that not a way of delighting in the Lord? But where were the desires of her heart? She had no desire to be homeless without a job. She felt totally adrift.

When she had her students memorize that verse, she told them to ask themselves what they most wanted. Sometimes they asked her the same question: What were the desires of her heart?

She had a ready answer. To teach them. To let her light shine. Sometimes she would quote the next verse to them. Commit thy way unto the LORD; trust also in him; and he shall bring it to pass. That was her way of letting them know that the Lord would, as her mother always said, provide. He would plant the proper desires in their hearts and show them the way to reach those goals in life.

Had she taught that and never truly believed it? She had lost the desires of her heart when Edward died. A family with Edward had been the true desire of her heart, and the Lord had taken it away.

She stared down at the box that held her teaching life. That it was small enough to carry seemed sad. But the rewards of teaching weren't in things but rather in ideas and abilities planted in young people. The chance to do that had been the desire that filled her heart after Edward died.

But that other desire was still there. The one not quenched by death. She did her best not to allow the thought of it to surface, but it lingered. To be a mother.

She pushed those thoughts away and picked up her box again. She would face whatever challenges came. What other choice was there?

Before she could move toward the steps, Miss Ophelia called to her. "Mira, glad I caught you."

Mira turned to her, still holding the box. "I apologize for my behavior earlier, Miss Ophelia. I hope you will forgive me."

"Your conduct was certainly less than exemplary, but your apology is accepted."

"Thank you."

Miss Ophelia took a step toward her. "Whatever is in that box?"

"It's my—" Tears suddenly clogged her throat and choked off her words.

"Well, never mind. Put it down and come inside. I need to speak with you, but I'll get a chill standing out here."

Mira did as she said and set the box down. She pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket to staunch the tears, but they kept coming.

When she reached the door, Miss Ophelia grabbed her arm and jerked her inside as though Mira were a contrary student she was determined to set right.

"My soup pot needs stirring." Miss Ophelia hustled Mira down the hall to the kitchen, where she pushed her down into a chair at the table.

Mira slipped off her coat and rubbed her arm. Miss Ophelia might be advanced in age, but she had not lost the strength in her hands.

The old woman didn't stir her soup. Instead, she scooted the pot away from the heat on her stove. Then she turned to stare at Mira trying to mop up her tears with a handkerchief too dainty for the task.

"Here." Miss Ophelia handed her a folded square of white. "Those flimsy lady hankies are of absolutely no use."

The men's kerchief was much better at the mopping-up chore. "Thank you," Mira whispered.

Miss Ophelia sat down at the end of the table. "If I brew us some tea, will you run off before I pour it?"

Mira sniffed. "I am sorry," she said again. She had been rude, but that seemed the least of her problems now. "I'd love some tea."

The woman stood and rummaged in a cabinet for a teapot and cups. The ordinary clatter of dishes was somehow comforting. Mira swallowed the last of her tears and sniffed again.

"For goodness' sake, blow your nose. Else you'll drive me batty with that sniffling. I hated when students in my classes started a chorus of sniffs."

"I suppose they couldn't help it." Mira did as ordered and blew her nose. She felt she'd been crying all day. At least she had managed to stay her tears until after she left the school.

"You would be surprised what you can help when you try. I tore an old sheet into squares for them to use as hankies. Solved much of the sniffing." She set a saucer and cup in front of Mira.

The steam rising from the tea warmed Mira's face as she lifted it to take a sip.

Miss Ophelia sat down with her cup. "Are you going to tell me what has you so weepy?"

"The school let me go. Said they needed fewer teachers. At least one fewer." To keep from sniffing again, she rubbed her nose with the handkerchief.

"And the box?"

"My things. They were packed up when I got there."

"Humph. Kind of them. At least I'm sure they thought so." Miss Ophelia gave her tea a sour look before she took a drink. The saucer clattered when she set the cup down. "They appear to be somewhat lax in timely informing you that you were no longer employed."

"They sent a letter I did not receive. Principal Harrison blamed the mail service. Had I received it, I would have had a little time to search for other options." Mira sniffed despite her determination not to as more tears threatened. She blew her nose again before she went on. "It appears I will have to look for a new position as well as new rooms."

"I fear I have bad news in regard to the accommodations. My brother has informed me that my niece is to be here on Saturday."

"This Saturday?" Mira's voice squeaked a little on the words.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"I'm not sure I can move that soon."

"I do recognize the difficulty facing you in obtaining a new place that quickly. I won't put you out on the street, but Phyllis won't abide a roommate even if such would be possible in those upper rooms. They are rather small." Miss Ophelia drummed her fingers on the table and pursed her lips. "Do you have any savings to fall back on?"

"No." That truth awakened a flutter of panic inside Mira.

"I thought that might be the case."

They sat in silence then for what seemed to Mira a long time. She should get up and go on to her rooms. Begin packing up her things even though she had nowhere to take them. Perhaps she could get a loan to tide her over until she found work. There were rooming houses down along the river. The ramshackle buildings appeared to be poor shelter, but people did live there. Others like her with no money for better accommodations.

Miss Ophelia's clock ticked away the seconds and then minutes. Mira stared down into her teacup and thought of her mother again. The Lord will provide.

As if the older woman heard her thoughts, she said, "You realize this is all the Lord's doing."

A flash of anger shot through Mira. "A loving God would not do this to me." The words were out before she could stop them. She looked down, ashamed to have shown her lack of faith.

"Now, now. Don't let your temper lead you astray." Miss Ophelia rapped her spoon on the table.

"You're right. I shouldn't have said that," she whispered, still without looking up.

"When you're complaining about the Lord, saying it and thinking it are the same. The Lord knows your thoughts." Miss Ophelia reached across the table to touch Mira's hand. "But worry not. The Lord knows the heart under the angry thoughts."

"But why is this happening?" She looked directly at the other woman. "Losing my place here. Losing my teaching position in the middle of the school year. That shouldn't happen."

"And very rarely does. At least, not all at once. But that may show the Lord's hand in this." Miss Ophelia sat back and studied Mira a few seconds. "I am beginning to believe our young pastor friend did feel a prompt from the Lord to invite you into his work." She paused a couple of seconds. "Into his life."

"You think I lost my job because the Lord wants me to accept Gordon's proposal?" Mira shook her head. "I can't believe that."

"Oh? Do you not believe the Lord guides us and gives us good works to do?"

"But I shouldn't have to go to a strange place to do so."

"Missionaries do that very thing all the time. That is what your young man is. A gospel missionary."

"He isn't my young man, and I haven't received a call to be a missionary."

"Are you sure? I think that is why you ran away this morning. You are afraid of the call you are feeling. Fear has a way of paralyzing us, coloring our thoughts, making us want to believe we know more than God."

"The Lord hasn't spoken to me." Mira kept her voice firm.

"Perhaps not in audible tones, but he has put you at a crossroads. A place where you can choose which direction to take. I'm sure that if you do decide to stay here in the city, you will find employment, a place to live. But what would be so bad about going to teach where there is no teacher? The mountains will be strange to you, but you would have the protection of a nice, caring young man. Love doesn't always have to come first. The Lord would bless your union and give you children."

Children. The word made a pang in her heart. "Did you ever want to have a child?"

"Oh yes. Very much when I was younger, but I let the opportunity slip away from me. You should not do the same."

"Do you want me to live out your dream?"

"No." Miss Ophelia shook her head. "I want you to live out your dream. One the Lord appears to be pushing you toward."

This time Miss Ophelia, instead of using her spoon, slapped the table with her hand. It was not hard to imagine her in front of a classroom of boys and girls demanding they learn. Now. Nor did Mira have any problem imagining the young people she'd seen in her dreams sitting in a school and looking at her with eager expressions.

But that was a dream. A person could dream anything.

Mira took a drink of her lukewarm tea. Is that how her life had become? Lukewarm. Had she given up on having a dream to live out?

But even if she did want to embrace Gordon's proposal, she could not now. She had no idea where Sourwood was other than somewhere in the eastern part of the state. And even if she had a map pointing out her way straight to it, she had no way to get there. So it mattered not that she was feeling the pull to say yes.

"Well?" Miss Ophelia seemed to demand an answer to an unspoken question.

"I'm not sure what you want me to say."

"It isn't what I want. It's what the Lord wants. Are you going to let fear rule your life? Or trust what the Lord wants for you?"

"Even if I did feel a call to teach those mountain children, I would have no idea of where they are or how to get there. There is no Sourwood listed in my atlas map of Kentucky."

"But once you are there in the East, someone could direct you."

"Gordon might have recruited someone else by now."

Miss Ophelia smiled slightly. "I don't think that has happened. Or will happen, at least until he is sure you will not change your mind. I think he already feels a great affection toward you. One perhaps, as he believes, given to him by the Lord."

"It would be a long walk to Eastern Kentucky."

"Don't be silly. No one has suggested you walk anywhere. You would go by train to the nearest town. I think the boy said that might be Jackson."

Mira breathed in and out. "Trains require tickets, and even if I were so foolish to think I should set off for the other side of the state, I have no money for the fare."

Miss Ophelia suddenly looked so pleased that Mira had to wonder if her admission of lack of funds was exactly what she wanted to hear. She stood up and started out of the kitchen. When Mira moved to stand as well, she waved her back to her chair. "I'll be right back. I just have to get something."

Mira considered escaping out the back door, but she couldn't run away twice in one day.

Miss Ophelia came back carrying a Bible. "Here we have the answer." She sounded almost jubilant. Not a tone Mira had ever heard from the woman.

"The Bible has many answers." Mira warily watched Miss Ophelia sit down and open it.

"Of course, but this answer may surprise you." She lifted an envelope from the pages. "The Lord does provide."

Hearing her mother's words spoken by Miss Ophelia was somehow jarring.

"As I feel sure you know, your young preacher stayed and drank the coffee I made for him this morning." Miss Ophelia fingered the envelope. "He shared his feelings and his calling. I was very impressed with his earnest desire to do the Lord's will. He claims that sometimes the Lord expects a man to step onto a path that is thick with the fog of the unknown. A path where he has to simply take the next step without knowing if there is a firm path there."

"Gordon is obviously a very devout man called by the Lord. However, I don't know what this has to do with my problem."

"You don't have a problem, my dear. You have an opportunity." She handed the envelope across to Mira. "And this is your ticket to that opportunity."

Mira pulled open the flap. Several dollar bills were inside. She looked up at Miss Ophelia. "I don't understand."

"Our young preacher had faith that if you prayed, your no would change to a yes. He left this money for you to buy your train ticket and travel to Sourwood. I think if you will look, he has written directions on exactly how to make the journey."

Mira's heart pounded up into her ears. She pushed the envelope back toward Miss Ophelia. "I can't take this."

"And if you don't, what am I to do with it? Buy tea?"

"Send it back to him. Pastor Watkins will have his address."

Miss Ophelia scooted the envelope across the table toward Mira. "I did suggest to our young preacher that you might not accept this grand opportunity, and if that turned out to be true, I asked him what to do with the money."

"Then you can do whatever he said."

"Very well." Miss Ophelia gave Mira a stern look. "You still must take it. He instructed me to give you the money no matter your decision, for he had a dreadful feeling you would soon be in need of help. It appears he was right."

She pulled a few bills out of her pocket and pressed them into Mira's hand to add to those in the envelope.

"I can't take this." Mira stared down at the money.

"A return on your rent. My brother demands that you be moved by Saturday." Miss Ophelia stood up and went to the stove to move her pot of soup back onto the heat. "Should you need it, I have a trunk you can borrow to move your belongings. I'll set it out on the step. I think you can manage to drag it up the stairs while it's empty. Once you have it packed, I will see if I can locate the man who does odd jobs around our neighborhood. He can convey it to your new quarters wherever they might be."

Mira heard the dismissal in her voice. She put on her coat and stuffed the envelope in her pocket. She would pay the money back.

When she started out of the kitchen, Miss Ophelia spoke without turning from the stove. "I do hope you will follow the Lord's lead and make the right choice."

"Maybe you should have gone with him."

"Oh, if only that were possible, but our young preacher wants more than a schoolteacher."

"That is what makes the decision impossible."

The old woman turned from the stove to look at Mira. "Not at all impossible. I saw the yearning on your face when you asked if I ever wanted a child."

"But a woman has to give herself to a man to have children."

"So she does. I've been told it's a wondrous gift given to those who marry. A gift I was never able to open." She pointed at Mira. "But you have that gift before you. All you have to do is accept it."

"I'm not sure I can."

"I think the truer statement is that you're not sure you can refuse." A smile slipped across the woman's face. "But I will give you a promise if you choose to go to Sourwood. I will come visit you when the sourwood trees are in bloom. Our young preacher says they have the loveliest scent in spite of their sour name."