Earthly Vows Page 3

  “This isn’t that kind of meeting. Dr. Flauvert is a friend of our former minister of Church in the Dell. You and Dad met Reverend Gracie years ago. Jeb’s made Dr. Flauvert’s acquaintance through Gracie’s introduction is all.”

  Abigail said, “You-all have a good meeting then,” and then followed Myrna into the kitchen.

  “I’ll only be a minute. I’ll get these pants to Myrna and then we can leave,” said Jeb.

  Fern nodded and leaned against the windowsill that looked out over the eastern acreage of her family’s estate.

  There was a brown haze on the windowpanes from a July dust storm.

  “I’m not going to drag you to meet Flauvert, Fern.”

  “You’re irritable today. Why don’t you go and change?” She slid on a white jacket and hat, along with a pair of gloves. “I’ll wait in the car.”

  Jeb intercepted her at the parlor door, placing his hands on her shoulders. “I want you to tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Fern lifted her face to say, “I said I’d go and talk to Dr. Flauvert with you. What else do you want?”

  “I want to offer you a better life,” said Jeb.

  “Define ‘better.’ ”

  “You live like a missionary in Nazareth. I see how different things are for you here, Fern. Everyone in town knows you; your family has political ties. You’ve done your part for Nazareth, and Stanton School is a better place because of you. But here in Oklahoma, you’re a Coulter.”

  “So your definition of better is being a Coulter?”

  “Is that a bad thing?”

  Fern clasped Jeb’s forearms and backed out of his grasp. “Myrna’s waiting for your pants. I’ll go and meet this Dr. Flauvert, Jeb. I said I would.”

  Jeb reclaimed her wrists. He didn’t like it when she moved away from him. “I know that when you meet Flauvert, you’ll want to know him better. There’s a grand scheme to all of this, Fern, I can feel myself fitting into something bigger than Nazareth, Arkansas.”

  “I said I’d go, didn’t I?” She pulled away.

  Jeb changed out of the pants and took them to Myrna. He could hear the Coulters’ car idling outside the kitchen door. Fern sat out in the car brooding, staring out the window toward Nazareth.

  What bothered Jeb the most was Fern’s silence. A rabbit crossing the road caused her to lift and point in time for Jeb to slow the car, but then she settled back into a world that had somehow been closed off to him. She pulled out a notepad to make a note to herself, took great interest in staring into a compact mirror—she never did that—and kept sighing until Jeb said, “If there’s something you want to say, you ought to say it.”

  “Nothing I can think of.”

  “I never realized how much you hated it here.”

  She sat up. “I don’t hate Ardmore. Ardmore is as good a place to live as any.”

  “What, then, is making you so miserable?”

  “Coming home is like traveling back to sad places. The Coulters are not as respectable as you think.”

  “I know. You called them wild. It had to have been a long time ago. I like your family. They’re nice as nice can be.”

  Fern stared back out the window toward an abandoned barn. “It’s easier for you as a man, that’s all.”

  “You saying you sowed some wild oats?”

  “Don’t jump to conclusions.” She sighed. “You’re making me crazy.”

  He wanted to call her bluff, ask if she wanted him to turn the car around and head back to Nazareth. But in her mood, she might tell him to do just that. Instead, he let out an irritated sigh, like she had always done when she wanted her way.

  “I said I’d go. Maybe it’s this whole idea of me being a minister’s wife. In Nazareth, they’d buy it. I don’t know about here. I lose myself when I come home.” She put away the mirror. “It’s silly. I’m sorry.”

  “I choose who I marry. You think I’m going to put that through some filter, parade you around, get everyone’s approval? Who I marry is my choice. You took me ‘as is.’ I don’t care what happened back here in Oklahoma. It doesn’t matter.”

  Fern leaned across the seat and kissed Jeb’s cheek. Her jasmine scent mixed with the car exhaust.

  Jeb stared at the road ahead, but kept stroking her hair. Fern was always surprising him. He still knew her better than anyone had ever known Fern Coulter. “It doesn’t matter,” he said again.

  Rachel Flauvert carried a tray of iced tea into her husband’s study. “Mrs. Nubey, I made you some tea with mint.” She placed the tray on a coffee table. “Here’s a plate of cookies to tide you over until lunch.”

  “Don’t leave us, Rachel,” said Jonathan. He introduced her to Jeb and Fern. “Reverend Nubey hasn’t officially given Miss Coulter his name yet, though.”

  “I don’t mind,” said Fern, taking a glass. “That’s good tea, nice and sweet.”

  “None of that Yankee tea for us,” said Rachel. Jeb liked her laugh and the way she used her arms when she talked. She was orchestrating everything, the party, where everyone sat, and seemed to be enjoying herself.

  Jonathan said to Jeb, “Tell me how you came to be in the pulpit, Brother Nubey.”

  Jeb averted his eyes. Fern shifted in her chair.

  “Is that a loaded question?” asked Jonathan. “It’s all right. Gracie filled me in on one thing; that you were cut from rough cloth, as he put it.”

  Jeb thought Fern looked as though she wanted to talk, so he let her.

  “Jeb’s not your conventional-type, run-of-the-mill preacher.”

  “Gracie has spoken highly of you, don’t get me wrong,” said Jonathan.

  “Dr. Flauvert, I’m always going to tell you the truth. I was once a wanted man running from the Texarkana police,” said Jeb.

  Jonathan laughed. “There’s a story you don’t hear every day.”

  Rachel offered Fern more tea.

  “If it had not been for the patience of Philemon Gracie and Fern Coulter, I’d still be running.”

  “Jeb’s not giving himself due credit,” said Fern.

  Jonathan kept smiling, not once cooling to him, to either of them, so Jeb decided it was all right to relax and tell things as they were.

  “I can attest to his education. He’s read as many books as most lawyers,” said Fern.

  “Brother Nubey, you’ve found an ally in this fine lady here. If a woman of her virtue and a minister of Philemon’s character speak so highly of you, it’s good enough for me.”

  There was a faint cough, Fern’s hand coming to her mouth.

  “I’d like to say something,” said Rachel.

  “Go on then, dearest.”

  “I once knew of a man with a past and I heard the story told that he went on to become the president of this country.”

  “Does a stained past disqualify you from the ministry, though?” asked Fern.

  Jeb could not get comfortable in the chair.

  “Not at all,” Rachel mouthed. “Don’t worry yourself.”

  “I mean, are we talking about a past or a reputation?” asked Jeb. “The difference is in what men know about us versus what God only knows.”

  Jonathan laughed.

  “Everyone’s got something, don’t they?” asked Jeb.

  “Goodness me, you men all do,” said Rachel. “Ladies aren’t allowed, though, are we, Fern?” Her hand was on top of Fern’s now and she kept patting her.

  Jeb got up and reached for the tea pitcher.

  “Oh, let me,” said Rachel.

  Jeb stopped her. “My fiancée’s glass is empty. She’s always doing for me.” He filled Fern’s tea glass.

  Fern looked up at him. She bit her bottom lip and looked down at Rachel’s white rug. “You be careful, Jeb. We don’t want to stain Mrs. Flauvert’s rug.”

  “Angel, Angel, come quick!” Abigail ran through the house.

  Angel lazed on the screened-in back porch. She had taken to a hunting dog named Baxter, a sleek brown dog that inched his
way into her lap, his large bottom half hanging down onto the porch. She was massaging his ears when she heard Abigail’s shouts. “I’m back here,” she hollered.

  Abigail opened the door to the porch. “There you are! Look what came to the door, this instant!” She held out a telegram.

  Angel pushed Baxter onto the floor. “What is it, Miz Abigail?” She was acting like someone had died.

  “Girl, you know when you told me about your sister Claudia?”

  Angel nodded.

  “I started inquiring at that café in Norman, I telephoned there and I had them on the line and we were talking. They gave me the name of a man who might know the Drakes, and they kept saying ‘might.’ One thing led to another, Angel, and I got an address. I didn’t want to get your hopes up, so I sent her a telegram telling her that you were here in Oklahoma.” She held out the telegram. “Claudia replied. Look.”

  “You saying you found my sister?” Angel didn’t know what to say.

  Abigail threw her arms around Angel.

  Ida May and Willie came bounding up the back steps. “What’s all the hollering about?” asked Willie.

  Angel read the telegram:

  Heard you was in OK. stop Have to see you soon. stop Coming on a bus. stop Friday 8 a.m. stop Pick me up, will you? stop Claudia

  “Angel, what is it?” asked Willie.

  “It’s a letter from Claudia!” Ida May jumped up and down and grabbed Angel.

  Tears ran down her face. “I can’t believe you did this for us, Miz Abigail.” She hugged Abigail Coulter. “I had given up.”

  “Let me see it,” said Willie. He snatched the telegram from Angel. “It doesn’t say whether or not she has kids. I hope she has a boy.”

  Angel plopped down on the settee. Abigail gave her a handkerchief and said, “I’ll make cookies, how about? We need to celebrate.” She went back into the house.

  “What does Claudia look like, Angel?” asked Ida May.

  “That’s right, you were young when she left.” Angel counted the years on one hand. “You weren’t but two or so. Is that right?”

  “Everybody said she looked like Momma,” said Willie.

  “Brown eyes, dark hair, long and hanging in curls around her shoulders. She was always pretty,” said Angel. “Men were always fighting over her, according to Granny.”

  Willie sat down cross-legged on the porch floor. “Angel, does this mean we won’t be going back to Nazareth?”

  “We’re going back next week, Willie,” said Ida May. “Aren’t we, Angel?”

  “This changes a lot, doesn’t it?” Willie took Baxter by the ears.

  “Claudia probably has herself a house by now. Her husband lost his job, but maybe he’s got a good one now. Aunt Kate told me he’s a railroad man,” said Angel.

  “We can’t leave Dud, can we, Angel?” asked Ida May. “What would he do? He can’t take care of himself.”

  “Miss Coulter’s going to take care of him, Ida May. Jeb is going to marry her, finally, and they’ll have their own kids,” said Angel.

  Abigail opened the door. “I can’t make cookies alone,” she said after listening to Ida May raising her complaints. “Who can help?”

  Willie beat Ida May to the kitchen.

  “We can all help, Miz Abigail.” Angel nudged Ida May into the house.

  “Does Dud want us to go with Claudia?” asked Ida May.

  “He has a life to live too, Ida May. We can’t expect to live with him forever.” She was happy to say that. There was nothing wrong with it.

  “Does Claudia want us?” Ida May walked backward in front of Angel.

  “Who knows how to use a cookie cutter?” asked Abigail.

  Angel pointed to Ida May.

  Abigail took Ida May’s hand and led her into the kitchen. Angel stopped in the middle of the parlor holding the telegram. She read it over and over until her heart stopped pounding so fast.

  “You want Jeb to speak this Sunday morning, in downtown Oklahoma City?” asked Fern. “He’s on sabbatical. Did you tell him that, Jeb?”

  Rachel had to go. “I hear faculty arriving.”

  Jonathan smiled. “First Community is in need of a speaker and I’ve taken their pulpit all summer while they’ve searched for a replacement minister. But our new students are arriving on campus this week. My faculty is arriving here this morning right this minute.”

  “Speak in a big church. You know Church in the Dell is a country church,” said Jeb. There was a difference, he thought.

  “They’re accustomed to ministers passing through. This will give you a chance to get a feel for the place. They’ll have a look at you, and you them. Fern, you’ll get a taste for city life, although you strike me as the city type. Am I right?”

  “I thought you wanted a rest, Jeb, that you needed time away from the pulpit?” Fern asked.

  “I don’t want to interrupt your sabbatical, Brother Nubey. If you’d rather not, I understand,” said Jonathan.

  Jeb said, “Fern and I ought to talk.”

  “This is where I make my getaway. I’ll go and greet our guests, give you two some time alone.” Jonathan left them in his study, closing the door behind him.

  “What’s gotten into you, Fern? Dr. Flauvert’s offer is not set in stone. At least give me the chance to tell him I’m honored by his invitation. There’s nothing wrong with that. I’d like to know what’s gotten into you.”

  “What’s gotten into you, is more like it. Jeb, you know me, know I’m not going to sit here like some big-eyed girl nodding and agreeing with everything that’s said. There’s a lot to discuss. You’re exhausted and needing a rest and I was looking forward to time away from church. And while we’re on the subject, here we are again making everything revolve around the church.”

  “For the minister, that’s how life spins.”

  “Jeb, I understand your responsibilities. My father was a responsible man, a respectable doctor, but sometimes he forgot he was responsible for a family too.”

  “So this is about your father?”

  She responded with an irritated sigh.

  “Imagine, Fern, me in a city pulpit. No more smalltown pettiness, smart folks with big ideas.”

  “Hear yourself, Jeb. You’ve already moved us into Oklahoma City.”

  “And what’s wrong with that? I’ve slaved over Church in the Dell, and for little payback.”

  She didn’t argue. “Nazareth is needy, I’ll admit that.”

  “Fern, I’ve been speaking in the pulpit for quite some time. I can use a message from last week. We’ll be in Oklahoma City. We’ll get a couple of nice rooms, one for you and the girls and one for Willie and me. Monday, we’ll see the sights, eat in a good restaurant. I’m thinking of you too.”

  “You’ve already decided then.”

  “We don’t have to give them an answer this weekend, do we?”

  “No, we don’t.” She got up from the chair and went to the window. Several couples were engaged in conversation out on the walk. “The Flauverts are good people.”

  “Fern, all I’ve ever known is hand-to-mouth.”

  “I finally got used to the idea of being a minister’s wife in Nazareth. I never imagined myself being anywhere else.”

  “We’re giving them a look, is all.”

  A quiet moment passed between them.

  “I guess we’d better join the Flauverts at their luncheon,” she said, resignation seeping in. “I’m going to go and freshen up. Rachel offered me her bedroom.” She picked up her handbag and snapped it closed. She kissed Jeb and left him standing alone in Flauvert’s study.

  Jeb had not noticed until now how many bookcases lined Flauvert’s walls. It was a large study, and framed photographs hung decoratively around the room. Rachel stood next to Jonathan in most of the photographs. She was a plain woman, slender and tastefully dressed, her lips faintly tinged.

  Fern had never been plain or ordinary. She was complicated, more like, always asking questions. He l
iked that about her, usually.

  The door opened and Jonathan peered into the room. “How did it go with the missus?”

  “I’ll accept your offer of speaking on Sunday.”

  “Fern’s a smart woman.”

  “She’s marrying me, isn’t she?”

  Jonathan opened the door wide. “I’d like to introduce you to some of our faculty, one of whom is our son George. He graduated college in May. Maybe before you head back to Nazareth, I can meet your young charges.”

  “You’ll like them too. They have their charms, Angel especially.”

  “Nothing better for a church than a respectable minister and his family to lead the way. Come and try Sophie’s chicken wings.”

  The afternoon wound down, the sun as gold as hay. The occasional car or horse and wagon rolling past the Coulters’ front gate sent Angel to her feet. The telegram had not left her hands since Abigail handed it to her. The view from the screened-in back porch offered the best view of the road. Jeb and Fern had been due back from lunch for two hours.

  Road dust lifted, hovering above a copse of trees beyond the horse stable. Angel leaned back against the settee and sighed until she heard the sound of a car motor rumbling down the shaded lane. Finally the Coulter Packard nosed into the clearing.

  Miss Coulter wore a white hat and fumbled with it from the front passenger seat. Her face was tanning in the Oklahoma sun, but the women from Ardmore had a tendency to tan, at least the ones who played golf.

  Fern talked to her more often, now that she and Jeb were engaged. She would like to have a mother like Fern, only not necessarily Fern. She could not explain her reasons precisely. Fern liked having her way and so did Angel. Fern could communicate exactly what she wanted with lightning speed, making it hard to calculate a reliable comeback. It was things like that that annoyed her.

  But Ida May took to Fern, as had Willie, looking more to Fern now for comfort. Willie’s questions about Claudia indicated an alarm had gone off in both him and Ida May. She would have to study the matter.

  She came to her feet and opened the back screen porch door wide, leaning out and faintly smiling at Jeb. Fern got out of the car carrying a dress store box. Angel held up the telegram and said, “It’s from Claudia. She’s here in Oklahoma.”