From Mourning to Joy

bin of ground-dug vegetables: carrots, squash, potatoes, onions, but mostly dirt filled the container and whatever was left for food looked old and threatening to mold. If this winter didn’t end soon these two would surely starve. In a bigger pot, he diced up carrots, turnips, and potatoes and added sliced off chunks of the frozen section of the rabbit that Davey’s mother hadn’t cooked. At least they’d had the good sense to put what was left of the critter in the makeshift icebox kept in the closed off portion of the back porch. The meat was still edible. Of course, he was no expert, neither claiming to be a cook nor a doctor. And he certainly had no experience with young’uns. Thank goodness this lad was well behaved and eager to please.
The aroma of food filled the air and he could see Davey lick his lips. “You hungry, boy?” That was a dumb question but it broke the silence.
“Yes, sir. Ma won’t let me start fires by myself.”
“Even when you’re both near frozen? I’m sure she would have forgiven you if you’d attempted one.”
“Pappy always said to mind Ma, and I ain’t crossed the line yet. Figured just because I turned six, the rules hadn’t changed much. But I did pray and ask God to send a fire-starter. So even when a stranger showed up, I knew He sent you and wasn’t too afraid.”
Bernie smiled to himself. “Your Ma will be right proud of you knowing you prayed me here. Women like that sort of thing.”
“Yes, sir. My Ma reads the Bible every day and keeps me on the straight-and-narrow with what it says.”
When the testing fork pierced through the ingredients in the pot, Bernie scooped food into two bowls and pushed the prepared broth to the cooler side of the stove. “Suppose you don’t have bread anywhere?”
“No sir. Debated eating the last piece this morning but the green part turned me off. Fed it to the hogs.”
Bernie plunked the bowl in front of him. “Well, dig in boy. Your mother will need your strength when she wakes up. Fever zaps a body of energy.”
“Need to give thanks. Pappy said a man should never be so starved he don’t have time to give thanks, even if it’s only rabbit stew.”
Bernie chuckled. “Fussy now, are we? Do you remember everything your Pa said?”
“Forgetting some of it and it scares me some. But when it came to living proper, Pappy hammered the truth into me whenever he could. Ma says he was a God-fearing man. Are you afraid of God, Mr. B?”
“Only fools don’t fear God. But it’s not the scary kind that gives you nightmares; just the kind that reminds you wisdom comes from a higher source.” Bernie bowed his head. “Go ahead, Davey. You can lead since you’re the man of the house.”
The boy chose his words carefully, speaking with precise reverence.
“Thank you for hearing my prayers and for stretching the food to provide another meal to keep us from begging at your doorstep, Lord. Thank you that Ma is tucked in her bed, safe and warm and that you’re holding her in your healing arms. And lastly, thanks for the stranger you sent. Mr. B made us a fine meal. I’m thinking it might need a powerful blessing since he seemed a little lost in the kitchen. Amen!”
Bernie couldn’t hold back the grin. “You have an interesting way of talking to the Almighty.”
“Ma says He don’t want fancy words just honest and straight to the point. No use wasting His time with balderdash.”
“I sure am looking forward to meeting your Ma, Davey. Sounds like my kind of woman.”
It was then he heard the shuffle at the bedroom door and looked sideways. A rifle pointed straight at him and although it shook with weakness, he could see the mother-bear ready to protect her young.
“I’m not anyone’s kind of woman, mister.”
Davey squealed and raced toward the figure leaning against the door casing, fighting to remain on her feet. She yelled. “Stop right there, Davey. Who’s this you brought into our home?”
“He’s God’s-man. Made us a tasty supper and got the fire going. Ma, he come just in time – surely the death angel was hanging around outside waiting to come in to collect us for the ride to heaven.”
“The boy is a bit dramatic,” said Bernie. “Henry and Olivia sent me from Belle’s General Store. But you are looking shaky and I’d hate for that gun to go off by mistake. You have nothing to fear from me, lady, and I’d be mighty happy to see you tucked back under the covers. I made some broth to help build up your strength.”
Through feverish eyes she looked at her son. “Are you all right, Davey?”
“Sure Ma. Mr. B’s been right obliging. Helped me get you off the floor and back into bed.”
Slowly she lowered the gun and leaned on the butt, scrutinizing the man seated at her table. “Suppose I am feeling light-headed.”
Davey scooted under her arm on one side, transferring some of her weight, and together they turned to go back inside the bedroom. Bernie knew his help would not be appreciated so he remained seated, determining to move only if she collapsed on the floor.
He blurted out a thought that had been bothering him. “Ma’am, if you have the strength, the dress you’re wearing has been drenched for two days in fever-sweat. Help your recovery if you took it off and found a clean nightie.”
Her head turned back, and in those few brief seconds, he witnessed relief replace the underlying fear. He hadn’t seen that panic in a woman’s eyes for years, but now it brought him back to the childhood he’d escaped. Today, as he watched fear disappear from this stranger’s face, he wished that just once he’d have