Page 24 of Hope’s Enduring Echo

Etta

“Thank you for your help.” Etta shook Mr. Jenkins’s hand. “You’re always so kind to Jennie and me.”

The conductor whipped off his hat and placed it over his chest. “It’s a pleasure to assist you ladies.” As he settled the hat back over his balding pate, his gaze bounced from the stack of full crates beside the train tracks to the opposite side of the river. “I don’t see your wagon. It’s not broke down, is it? How’re you going to carry all these goods to your cabin?”

Etta forced a nonchalant chuckle. “I assure you, the wagon is in working condition. I imagine Claude is enjoying his quiet afternoon and didn’t keep track of the time.” She ushered Jennie toward the footbridge. “When he hears the train rattle by, he’ll come with the wagon and help us.” It stung her conscience to fib to the kindly man, but how else could they keep others from knowing the truth about Claude’s condition? Folks would be understanding if the wagon was broken down, but what would they say about a broken-down man?

“Yes.” Jennie raised her voice above the train’s rhythmic chug-chug as it idled on the track. “But if you’re worried, you could ask Mr. Rawling to blow the whistle.” She peeked at Etta from the corner of her eye, a smirk curving her lips. “That should wake up Daddy.”

The conductor released a robust laugh. “Oh, Jennie, you’re an ornery one, for sure.” He ambled to the rear of the caboose and pulled himself onto the landing. He leaned over the railing and waved. The engineer’s arm popped out from the engine’s window and wagged up and down in reply. Moments later, a cloud of smoke billowed from the engine’s stack, steam hissed from behind the iron wheels, and the cars screeched forward. Mr. Jenkins tipped his hat to Jennie and Etta, then disappeared inside the caboose.

Etta waited until the train was far enough up the tracks to allow conversation, then put her hands on her hips and turned a stern look on her daughter. “Young lady, that comment about waking your daddy with the whistle was not funny. It was unkind, and I expect better of you. Regardless of provocation, we should not make sport of his current ailment.”

Jennie looked aside. The stubborn angle of her jaw reminded Etta of Claude. “I’m sorry, Mama. I guess I’m a little out of sorts.”

She’d been out of sorts since they left the hotel dining room. Etta didn’t need a degree in psychiatry to surmise the reason why. She touched Jennie’s arm, drawing her focus. “Maybe I shouldn’t have invited Leo to eat with us today. I thought some time with him would make you happy.”

Jennie’s chin quivered. “I was happy. At the time. But as soon as he walked away, I felt the loss all over again. We’ll only go to Canon City one more time before he leaves for college. Who knows if I’ll see him then?”

Etta glanced at the rock next to the footbridge. “You can write and leave messages for him.”

Jennie huffed and folded her arms. “That’s not the same. I prayed and prayed for a friend, and God sent me one. Then Daddy sent him away. It isn’t fair.”

No, it wasn’t. But Jennie needed to look to the future, not the past. “Honey, it won’t be long and you’ll have lots of friends again. When you’re in school—”

“Mama, please…” Jennie groaned. “You keep saying that, but how can I go? Even if Daddy jumps out of his chair today and starts using his legs, he won’t be able to take over the line by the time school starts. He’s sat for almost two full years. It’ll take months for him to get his strength back.”

Etta’s heart ached at the defeat in her daughter’s voice. “That may be true, but whether he can walk the line or not, you are going to school in the fall. Your aunt and uncle know it. Soon the school will know it, because they promised to enroll you. As I said, even if you don’t see Leo again, you will have other friends. Hosts of friends, the way you did before we moved out here. You must have faith, Jennie.”

The sadness didn’t lift from her daughter’s eyes. “I’ll go get the wagon so we can tote these cartons to the house.” She scuffed off, her heels dragging and her head low.

Etta sat on one of the crates and prayed while she waited for Jennie to return. She wished she’d told her to ask Claude to help her, and then she was glad she hadn’t. If Claude said no, he’d only discourage Jennie more. Even though she told herself not to expect Claude, a shaft of disappointment struck when Jennie returned with the wagon alone.

Etta carried the first carton across the footbridge slowly, placing her feet carefully. Her pumps weren’t as sturdy as the work boots Jennie was wearing. “Rags didn’t come with you?”

“He was snoozing under Daddy’s chair. He opened one eye, then went back to sleep.”

Etta plopped the carton on the wagon bed. “Your daddy’s in his chair?” A hint of irritation colored the query. If he’d sat there and watched his daughter leave with the wagon, knowing a load waited for them, he truly had sunk low.

Jennie lifted a carton. “No. When I looked in the house, the bedroom door was closed. He must be sleeping, too.”

Etta couldn’t decide if that was better or not. Claude slept far too much. She focused on transporting the crates across the bridge and then pulling the wagon home. They left the wagon next to the stoop, and Etta went inside. She called over her shoulder, “Rest a bit, get a drink of cold water, and pet Rags. Those things will keep.” Then she entered the bedroom.

Claude rolled over and blinked at her. “Oh, you’re back.”

She sat on the edge of the bed and put her hand on his hip. “Yes, we are. The celebration was quite enjoyable. I wish you’d gone.”

He snuffled. “Good thing I didn’t.”

“Oh? Why is that?”

“Had a visitor out here yesterday.” He sat up, then leaned against the headboard, his lips forming a grim line on his whiskery face. “The feller who tried to fix the leak in the pipeline came back to do the job right. But then he came up here. Knocked on the door. I let him in.”

Etta’s heart pounded. “W-what did he want?”

Claude grunted. “Wanted to make sure I was alive an’ kickin’, I guess. He said a rumor’s makin’ the rounds in the Water Works Department that I ain’t been seen for a while.” His scowl deepened. “Who do you reckon told ’em that?”

Did anyone need to tell them? The train went by every day. People no doubt saw Jennie on the pipeline. Even if they surmised, as Leo had, that Jennie was out there entertaining herself, some might wonder why they never saw anyone else. Word would get around the way it always did in a small town. She started to say as much, but he went on.

“It was probably that college boy. Said it out of spite because I told him not to come around anymore.”

Etta gasped. “Claude, I don’t think—”

“Or Jennie. She was out there with that fellow who tried to fix it the first time. She must’ve said somethin’ that—”

“Claude!” Etta had never spoken so firmly to her husband, but she wouldn’t allow him to disparage Jennie. “Your daughter has served as linewalker without an ounce of recognition or appreciation since she was fifteen years old. She assumed your responsibility and never once complained about it. She’s done everything possible to protect you since you fell off the pipe. And why does she do it? Because she loves you. Don’t you dare accuse her of discrediting you to someone from the Water Works Department—or to anyone else, for that matter. Do you hear me?”

Claude stared at her through slitted eyelids, grinding his teeth.

She clamped her hand over the knee of his damaged leg and wiggled it. “Do you hear me?”

“I hear you.”

His tone was belligerent, but he’d answered. She took the acknowledgment as permission to say other things she’d been holding inside. “Then let me tell you something else. Leo Day is an honorable, Christian young man who didn’t deserve to be sent away from our house in disgrace. Jennie needs friends. She prayed for friends.” She nodded at his raised eyebrows. “That’s right—she specifically prayed for a friend, and Leo came along. For one week, she had a friend, and then your temper interfered. It was wrong of you, Claude, and you need to make it right.”

He shifted as if readying to slink under the covers again.

She shook his leg. “No. Listen to me. Whether you reverse your ill-given edict about Leo Day or not, Jennie will have friends. She’s borne the financial burden of this family far too long. She deserves time with people her own age. She deserves to attend classes that will help her hone her God-given talents. I am sending her to Canon City at the end of the summer to finish her education in town. It’s all been arranged with Prime and Delia, and the topic is not up for discussion.” She stood. “Now, I have cartons of goods to put away. I’d appreciate your help.”

For several minutes, they stared at each other—her standing stiff and unsmiling beside the bed, him sitting slumped and sullen on the mattress. She waited, inwardly crying out for him to get up, to help, to try. She held her tongue as long as she could, then asked raggedly, “Are you coming?”

He averted his gaze. His chest heaved in a sigh. Then a slow wag of his head spoke for him.

Etta marched out of the room, snapped the door closed behind her, and breezed past Jennie, who stood pale and wide-eyed in the middle of the floor. She must have heard every word. In a way, Etta was grateful. Jennie needed to know she had her mother’s support. But at the same time, she regretted speaking so harshly to Claude. What a poor example of loving-kindness she’d set for her daughter.

She headed for the front door. “I need the outhouse.” A bald lie. She needed privacy, and no one would bother her there. Closed inside the stuffy, smelly, shadow-cloaked ramshackle structure, she leaned into the corner and let her tears flow. She cried long and hard, unleashing her frustration and worry in a torrent the likes of which she’d never indulged before. She feared the racking sobs might collapse her chest, but they didn’t. When her tears finally shuddered to a whimper, she dug under her skirt for her slip and used it to clean her face.

Closing her eyes, she rested the back of her throbbing head on the warped wall and eased out a lengthy cleansing breath. “God, forgive me for carrying on so. But I must confess, it felt good to let it out. Did You catch all those tears in a bottle?” A rueful chuckle rattled her chest. “If so, it’s probably overflowing.” She opened her eyes and peered at a tiny crack in the ceiling, envisioning the vast sky on the other side of the cedar shakes. “I’ve held to hope for Claude’s restoration for so long. I know You answer in Your time, and I’ve always trusted You. I still do, but…” She swallowed a knot of agony. “I need help. Please let that doctor in Pueblo offer some hope, because I’m nearly spent, Lord.”

The concession made, she smoothed her hand over her hair, straightened her skirt, and stepped into shaded yard. She searched the sky for a moment, hoping to spot at least a ray from the sun reaching upward, but mountains shielded every bit of its glow. Disappointed, she returned to the house.

Jennie was at the table, an empty glass in front of her, and Rags sitting next to her chair. She looked over at Etta and stood. “Mama, are you all right?”

Etta could only imagine what she looked like after such a harsh crying jag. But she answered with confidence. “I’m just fine, honey.”

Jennie bit the corner of her lip, glancing down at the dog before settling her uncertain gaze on Etta again. “Then may I ask you something?”

A smile tugged at Etta’s lips. “You may ask me anything.”

Jennie approached Etta, Rags coming along with his moist brown eyes aimed at Jennie’s face. “Somebody has to walk the line. Otherwise, there’s no money coming in for our family. If I don’t do it anymore, and Daddy won’t, who will?”

Etta shrugged, feigning a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “I will.”

Jennie’s mouth fell open. “W-what?”

“As you pointed out, it takes some fortitude to cover that distance every day. My housework hasn’t adequately prepared me for it. But we have seven weeks for me to build my stamina, and I’m sure I can do it since I haven’t been sitting in a chair for two years.” She squared her shoulders and lifted her chin. “Starting tomorrow, I will walk with you in the morning. We’ll start with half the route. Then, as my legs grow stronger, I’ll do the full distance. By the time school starts, I’ll be more than able to inspect the pipeline.”

Doubt glimmered in Jennie’s brown eyes. “Are you sure you want to do that?”

Etta ground her teeth. Truthfully, she did not. “Someone has to or—you’re right—we won’t have any money to live on.”

“But I can—”

Etta covered Jennie’s lips with her fingers. “No. Not anymore. You’ve devoted two years of your youth. That’s more than enough sacrifice. I will do it if your daddy isn’t able.” She caught Jennie’s hand and swung it. “We’ll have fun, won’t we, walking the line together?”

The uncertainty didn’t clear from Jennie’s expression, but she nodded. “It’ll be nice to have company.”

“Indeed.” She released her daughter’s hand. “And in a few minutes, I’ll give you some company in the front yard, where those cartons are waiting to be unloaded. But I need to apologize to your daddy first. I was truthful, but I spoke harshly to him, and it was wrong of me to use such an uncaring tone.”

A hint of resentment briefly narrowed Jennie’s gaze. “He talks harshly and never says he’s sorry.”

“That may be true,” Etta said, speaking to herself as much as to her daughter, “but I’m not accountable for what he does. I am, however, accountable for my own behavior. I’ll feel better after I apologize.” She gave Jennie’s braid a light tug. “Go on, now.”

When Jennie exited, Etta went to the bedroom and tapped Claude’s shoulder. He didn’t move but shifted his eyes and met her gaze. Looking into the brown eyes that had captured her heart a quarter century ago, she asked his forgiveness for being curt with him. “I meant everything I said,” she told him, speaking softly and kindly, “but I shouldn’t have spoken the way I did. I am sorry, Claude.”

For several seconds, he stared at her, unblinking. Then he nodded—one brusque bob of his head. “Don’t know how you keep your patience as much as you do. If I was you, I would’ve given me the boot already.”

There was no good response to a statement like that. She kissed his forehead and left the room. As she and Jennie transported items to the house and put everything away, Etta’s mind wandered to her conversation with Dr. Whiteside. When would they hear from the doctor in Pueblo? What might he say? What if there was no cure for whatever had taken hold of Claude? Would they live the rest of their lives in this way—him sulking, sleeping, and eating, and her caring for him? She’d vowed to be faithful in sickness and in health, but she’d never imagined this kind of sickness.

The oft uttered prayer of her heart spilled again from the center of her soul. Lord, whatever it takes, please restore my husband to me.