Page 15 of Hope’s Enduring Echo

Etta

Etta tossed the misshapen ball she’d made by tying a sleeve from one of Claude’s old shirts into a series of tight knots. The puppy’s bright eyes followed its path, and then he lunged as it neared the grass. He missed catching it, but he pounced on it. He yipped his joy between alternately trampling the wad of chambray cloth with his oversized feet and clamping it in his jaw and shaking it.

She couldn’t hold back a grin. She hadn’t wanted to play with the dog. She should be preparing supper for her family and Leo. But when she caught Rags chewing a rung on Claude’s window-watching chair, she exclaimed the pup needed to be diverted from destructive behavior. She’d meant she wanted Claude to take him outside and play with him. Claude ignored her hint and told her to give that dog, as he’d referred to him all day, a stick or something else to chew on.

So now, instead of cooking, she entertained Rags. And Claude observed them from his place behind the window. He might act disinterested, but twice during the day, she’d seen him give the pup a scratch behind his ears. He’d also dropped a few bits of his lunch sandwich into his lap and then brushed them to the floor, pretending it was an accident. He wasn’t a good faker—she knew he meant to share with the dog. But she didn’t say anything.

Those interactions, small though they were, had given her heart a lift. Eventually, Rags would win him over. Only a heartless person would be able to refuse the pup’s winsome face and adorably clumsy prancing. Despite his current state, Claude was not a heartless person.

Suddenly Rags dropped the cloth ball and went tense. His brown ear spiked straight-up, and a little whimper rolled in his throat before he gave a hearty yap. Etta looked where the pup was focused and spotted Jennie and Leo cresting the hill behind the cabin.

She crouched beside the dog and placed her hand on his quivering back. “Good boy for alerting me that someone’s coming. But there’s no need to be frightened of our girl. You know Jennie. And Leo is a friend. So—”

Rags bolted from her and took off in a stumbling run, his ears flapping as if he meant to take flight. Etta pushed to her feet and started after him, but then she stopped and watched the puppy take a weaving path toward the approaching young people. She expected Rags to go straight to Jennie. After all, Jennie had fed him and tucked him into a folded blanket on the floor at the end of her bed last night. But the dog ducked past Jennie’s reaching hands and jumped against Leo’s legs.

Leo picked up the squirming bundle of yipping fur, swiveling his head away from Rags’s swiping tongue. But Leo was laughing, as was Jennie. Etta waited for them to join her in the yard, and then she took the puppy from Leo and put him on the grass.

“My goodness!” Etta shook her head, smiling at Leo. “That was quite the greeting you received. He treated you like a long-lost friend.”

Leo rubbed his finger under his nose, his grin sheepish. “Yes, well…” He flicked an almost embarrassed glance at Jennie. “I hadn’t planned to admit this, but I found the puppy and brought him to the Flankstons.”

Jennie’s mouth dropped open. “You did? I wonder why they didn’t say so?”

Etta bent over and ruffled Rags’s velvety ears. “Maybe they didn’t want us to feel obligated to take him since you and Leo have become such good friends.”

The pair exchanged grins.

“I guess so,” Jennie said before giving Leo a light bop on his arm. “But why didn’t you tell me you’d found him? I feel kind of foolish now, the way I went on about the dog when you already knew about him.”

He put both hands in the air as if in surrender. “But I didn’t know they’d given him to you. So we both got a surprise.”

Jennie laughed again, shaking her head. “Well, he sure remembers you.”

“Or maybe he just smelled these.” Leo shrugged out of his knapsack and unbuckled the flap. He lifted out a wax-paper-wrapped package and gave it to Etta.

Rags bounced at Etta’s feet, half lunging at the bundle. She tsk-tsk ed at the dog, then turned to Leo. “What is it?”

“Cherry-filled rolls from the hotel.” Remorse twisted his lips. “I’m afraid they got a little squashed in my pack. I hope they’ll still taste all right.”

His thoughtfulness warmed her. “Squashing won’t remove the flavor. Thank you, Leo. This is very kind of you.”

A blush stained the young man’s chiseled cheeks. “It isn’t much, but I wanted to thank you for sharing meals with me and letting Jennie guide me around the hills. I appreciate all you’ve done for me.”

“You’re quite welcome. We don’t get many visitors out here, and we’ve enjoyed becoming acquainted.” Etta headed to the house. The dog and both young people trailed her inside. She held the package of rolls out toward Claude as she passed him. “Leo brought us a treat from the hotel.” Claude stared out the window as if he hadn’t heard her. She placed the package on the table, then crossed to the sink and pumped water to wash her hands. “Leo, did you have any luck today at finding more of the dinosaur skeleton?”

“No, ma’am, but we’re not giving up.”

Etta turned a startled glance on him. His use of we seemed to carry significance.

Jennie was beaming up at Leo. “But we did find something important, didn’t we? A fossilized beetle from the”—she crinkled her nose, her eyes rolling upward—“Paleozoic Era.” She fixed a hopeful look on Leo. “Did I say it right?”

“You did.” Leo removed his hat and tucked it under his arm.

“According to evolutionists,” Jennie went on brightly, “it could possibly date back as far as five hundred million years ago.”

Leo’s smile turned warm and encouraging. “It’s amazing you remembered all that. It took me more than a week to memorize the names and estimated time periods of the eras. You’re a good student.”

Suddenly Claude snorted and pushed himself to his feet. “I don’t hold with evolution. Adaptation? Sure. Over time, as the environment changes, critters have to change for survival. But one type of critter turning into another one? That’s pure nonsense. Goes completely against what the Bible says about how things came to be. I won’t allow that kind of talk in my house, and I won’t have you teachin’ it to my daughter.”

Jennie gasped. “Daddy! Leo isn’t—”

Claude pointed at her. “He just now called you a good student. You spouted some big word you’ve never said before. So don’t tell me he isn’t filling your head with whatever he’s learning at that fancy college.”

Etta grabbed a hand towel and hurried to her husband’s side. “Claude, there’s no need to get yourself worked up. I don’t think Leo’s teaching Jennie things that will harm her.”

“No, he isn’t.” Jennie’s voice turned shrill, even panicky. Rags went flat on the floor and peered up at her, his round eyes filled with worry. “Leo is studying the theory of evolution at college. It’s part of his training in paleontology. But he believes—”

Claude made a vicious swipe with his arm. “I don’t want to hear anything more about it.” He aimed a fierce glare at Jennie, who trembled as badly as the frightened pup on the floor. “We were foolish to let you go traipsing with him. Two young folks wandering around out there without supervision…Heaven only knows what all you could be up to.”

Leo drew back as sharply as if he’d been struck. “Sir, I assure you, I—”

Claude jammed his palm in the air. “Nope. I said I’m done listening. I’m telling. You’re no longer welcome here, young man. You wanna keep hunting for bones, hire somebody from town to take you. But Jennie ain’t gonna be picking up on any more lies.”

Jennie wrung her hands, tears swimming. “But, Daddy, Leo and I—”

“I said no more !” Claude roared the command.

Rags scuttled under the table, and Jennie burst into tears. She ran to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, but the heartbreaking sounds of her weeping filtered past the planked wood.

Etta touched Claude’s arm. “Claude, please, let’s talk about this.”

Claude jerked free of her light hold and plunked onto the chair. “Got nothin’ more to say.” He peered out the window, his jaw jutting in an obstinate angle.

Etta sighed and gestured for Leo to follow her outdoors. She moved well away from the cabin, then offered the stricken college student a sorrowful look. “Leo, I know you haven’t done or said anything to deserve Claude’s railing. I’m sorry about the accusations he threw at you.”

Leo swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “It’s not your fault, ma’am. Jennie told me about Mr. Ward’s troubles. His sickness was talking just then, not him.”

What a kind, understanding way of responding to such unwarranted treatment. Etta’s respect and admiration for Leo increased. “Even so, he owes you an apology. Since he won’t give it, I will. I’ll also talk to him when he’s calmed down. It—” Suddenly the full meaning behind his words settled in her mind. “Did Jennie tell you her daddy is sick? Because he isn’t ill. According to the doctor, his leg is fully healed. It just didn’t heal straight, so he can’t walk as well as he used to.”

Leo looked aside for a moment, and when he turned back, his eyes seemed to hold a steely resolve. “Ma’am, I’m not a doctor. I won’t even pretend to be. But Mr. Ward’s behavior matches the symptoms I learned about in one of my college classes.” Red streaks flooded his cheeks. “If I tell you about it, can we keep it between the two of us? I don’t want Jennie to know. She’s hoping so much for Mr. Ward to be himself again, and I don’t want to knock the hope out of her.”

Clearly, Leo cared about Jennie. Etta heard it in his voice now. She’d witnessed it in the way he acted around her. She understood his desire not to discourage Jennie, but she feared whatever he said might discourage her own heart. Some days her hold on hope was more tenuous than she wanted anyone to know.

The young man waited for her to grant or deny permission to speak. Lord, what do I tell him? An explicable peace whispered through the center of her soul—the Holy Spirit giving an answer. She placed her fingertips on his arm. “Please tell me. I’ll keep whatever you say in confidence.”

She listened while Leo shared the details of a mental disease called melancholia. So many of the symptoms—overwhelming sadness, unwarranted irritability, sleeping too much, lack of energy or desire to participate in previously enjoyed activities—described Claude so well that gooseflesh broke out on her arms in spite of the mild summer temperature.

“Sometimes there’s no explanation for its occurrence,” Leo said, “but other times it seems to follow a significant emotional trauma. Jennie told me earlier today that Mr. Ward lost his beloved dog shortly before he injured his leg. Rex’s death may play as much a role in his feelings of despondence as his inability to walk as well as he once did.”

Etta glanced over her shoulder. Claude’s unsmiling face was framed in the window, and his low-lidded eyes stared at…what? Another chill attacked. She needed to end this conversation and return to the cabin as quickly as possible lest another emotional storm was brewing under his surface. Jennie had been through enough for one day.

“I appreciate you telling me about this illness.” She nibbled her lower lip for a moment, her need to return to the cabin warring with her desire for more information. “Is there…a cure?”

Leo ducked his head and scuffed grass-blades with the toe of his boot. “There are treatments, but no known cure.” He lifted his face. Did she glimpse a small element of hope in his expression? “However, there are recorded cases when the melancholia lifted as mysteriously as it arrived.” He grimaced. “Of course, there aren’t guarantees it won’t come back at a later time. But at least there is a possibility of a reprieve in the depressive symptoms.”

Suddenly he gripped Etta’s hand. “I pray that I’m wrong. That Mr. Ward doesn’t have melancholia. But if he does, you—all of you—need support from a good doctor.”

A sad chuckle found its way from Etta’s chest. “Claude has refused to go to town since Doc Whiteside told him his leg had healed incorrectly.”

“Then you go.” The corners of Leo’s lips lifted into a sheepish grin. “Please pardon me for being so bold, but I…I’ve come to care about your family. And if I’m not allowed to see any of you anymore, I’d like to leave with the assurance that things will be better for you by and by.”

She blinked hard against the threat of tears. What an amazing young man. The type of young man Etta would choose for her daughter…for more than a mere friend. But what was she thinking? She’d always known Leo would be in Canon City for only a short time, and now Claude had banished him. She shouldn’t allow such thoughts for even a moment. “Thank you, Leo. When I’m in town next, I’ll stop by the doctor’s office and visit with him.”

He breathed out a huge sigh laden with relief. He put on his hat and tightened the strings, then removed his knapsack and pulled out a wire-bound drawing pad. “This is Jennie’s. Would you return it to her, please?”

Etta took it. “Of course.”

“And this is for Mr. Ward.” He slowly removed a periodical, as if now fearful of giving it. “You’ll notice there’s a painting of children on the cover. The magazine features works by various artists on its covers, but don’t let the subject matter mislead you. The articles aren’t written for children. My father takes the Post and always enjoys its contents. I hope it will provide a pleasant diversion for Mr. Ward.”

Etta stacked the magazine on top of the sketch pad. “Thank you, Leo. It was kind and generous for you to think of him.” Especially considering how inhospitable Claude had been on previous visits. After tonight’s eruption, Leo could have decided not to leave the gift. That he chose to give it anyway said much about his character.

Leo swung the knapsack onto his back. “I’ll go watch for the train now. Thank you, Mrs. Ward, and…” His gaze drifted to the cabin. He swallowed. “Please tell Jennie I’m grateful to have met her. She’s a very special girl.” He turned and scuffed down the hill, his shoulders as bowed as if the pack on his back was filled with boulders.

Etta pressed the items he’d given her to her pounding heart. She returned to the cabin, her steps slow and labored. Could Leo be right about Claude? As he’d made clear, he wasn’t a doctor, but he was an intelligent young man who, she truly believed, wouldn’t bear falsehoods. Could it be that Claude wasn’t merely being stubborn about his perceived inability to work again but had a true illness that kept him captive in the cabin every day?

Lord, I’ve asked You to restore Claude. But what restoration does he truly need—physical or mental?