Through the Deep Waters (8 page)

Amos

Amos counted his money again, but the amount remained the same. He shifted his gaze from the carefully stacked coins on his table to the single window of his little house. The beautiful colors of the sunset had already faded from the sky, leaving a smudgy gray expanse in its place. He’d never liked this time of day—no sun shining but not yet any stars to blink overhead. The depressing view added to the memory of the hotel manager’s words brought a wave of defeat.

“Four dozen eggs a day? Mr. Ackerman, our kitchen staff requires three times that number on a daily basis. I’ll not deny your eggs seem of highest quality, but you can’t possibly meet our needs with such a small flock of chickens. Now, if you were to triple or even quadruple your flock, then I would most likely purchase your eggs. But not until then.”

All the walk home, Amos had pondered how to increase his flock to meet Mr. Irwin’s demands. While scattering grain for the birds, working in his garden, and repairing the fence, he’d continued to think and pray. Now, sitting at his supper table with the meager contents of his money jar glinting in the lamplight, he gathered the conclusions he’d reached.

He had space for a bigger flock on his land. He’d need a bigger chicken house, but he could tear down the two sheds on the back edge of his property and use the lumber to expand the current chicken house. Fortunately his arms and back were still strong even if his damaged leg slowed his progress. If he bartered with the neighboring farmer to clear a bit more of his land, he could increase his corn crop for feed. He didn’t mind working longer and harder to take care of a bigger flock.

But how to get the bigger flock? Chicks cost money. He shifted his attention to the stacked coins again. Mr. Irwin said to triple or quadruple his number of birds, but to even double his flock would cost more than what he had. His shoulders sagged. A sigh wheezed from his lungs. “You’ve blessed me in so many ways with this house and land and barn. I’m grateful for what You’ve given, and I don’t want to be a complainer like the Israelites who could never be satisfied with what You gave them, but …”

He swallowed. Should he even express a “but” to the One who’d already given him so much? Then he decided to go ahead. The Almighty God knew his thoughts anyway, so he wouldn’t surprise Him when he spoke them aloud. He turned his face to the ceiling. “But with forty-eight chickens I’ll never have enough money for what I really want.”

Tightness built in his chest. The chickens weren’t his biggest dream. Becoming a family man like his brothers was his biggest dream. But he couldn’t have one without the other. “Is it too much to ask for a bigger flock? I’ll be an honest farmer, Lord. I’ll continue to tithe—I won’t be selfish with the profits. I’m not asking for a fancy house or a new carriage or even a hip that doesn’t pain me when I walk. I can make do with little. But, dear Lord, can’t I please have what Titus and John have? Can’t I have a wife and children?”

He rose and plodded to the bucket of water he’d brought in earlier. He heated a pan of water on the stove, poured it into a basin with a little lye soap, then scrubbed the few items he’d used when preparing and eating his supper. As he set the clean plate in its place on the sideboard, an idea struck with such force he dropped the fork. It clattered against the wooden floor, its
ting-ting-ting!
matching the wild clamor in his chest.

He slapped his forehead and laughed aloud. “What a fool I must be not to see the answer!” He looked up, shaking his head and grinning at the ceiling beams as if God’s face were there instead. “Thank You, Lord, for opening my feeble mind.”

He hurried back to the table, doing a double hop on his good leg in his eagerness, and separated out the fifty-cent piece from the other coins. As he
dropped the pennies, nickels, dimes, and quarters into the jar, he laughed again. Why hadn’t he thought of it earlier and saved himself some worry? If he bought a rooster or maybe even two, his eggs would be fertilized. He could leave behind a few eggs each day for the chickens to hatch. Then when the chicks were hatched, he’d let the pullets grow up to lay eggs, and the roosters could be butchered, bartered, or sold.

As he reached to set the money jar on its high shelf, he caught a glimpse of the night sky outside his window. Black velvet had replaced the dingy gray, and stars winked white. He sent a silent prayer of thankfulness to the One behind the stars. Yes, it would take longer, raising his own chicks to expand his flock, but did he have to be in a hurry? Mr. Irwin hadn’t said, “Come back next week or I can’t work with you at all.” So Amos could be patient. His dream was worth waiting for.

Dinah

While Ruthie visited the outhouse, Dinah scrambled into her nightclothes and dove beneath the covers. The open window allowed in a breeze, but even so the room was stifling. The lightweight quilt might as well have been a stack of wool blankets. She’d rather lay uncovered on top of the cotton sheet. If she had a room to herself, that was exactly what she’d do. But sharing a room meant having someone—someone she hardly knew—see her in her nightgown. She couldn’t bring herself to let anyone, not even someone as harmless as Ruthie, see her dressed so scantily.

After being issued uniforms from Mr. Irwin, she’d followed Ruthie and observed the cleanup practices Mr. Harvey required. The man was a stickler for cleanliness, much more so than Miss Flo. The beautifully decorated rooms reminded her of the one in the hotel where she’d met the gentleman, and she hadn’t wanted to enter them. But Ruthie had laughingly ushered her over the thresholds, teasing that she couldn’t very well clean from the hallway.

As Ruthie demonstrated the required cleaning practices, she told Dinah about Mr. Harvey’s wife traveling all the way to Europe to purchase linens and furniture for the rooms. Listening to Ruthie blather on and on had helped chase away the ghosts haunting her mind. By the end of the day, she’d made a silent vow to forget the only other hotel she’d visited and concentrate on doing exactly what was needed to please Mr. Harvey.

In addition to showing her the ropes, as Ruthie had put it, the outgoing chambermaid introduced her to the other staff members. Everyone—the cook, the kitchen helpers, the busboys, and the waitresses—welcomed her into the Clifton family, just as Ruthie said they would. Dinah swiped at a trickle of sweat easing along her temple as she tried to recall their names. If she was going to live and work with these people every day, she needed to be a part of them. But their easy acceptance, instead of pleasing her, left her on edge. She wished she could understand why.

The doorknob rattled and Ruthie breezed into the room. Dinah had never met anyone who moved with such grace. Did the girl’s feet even touch the floor? And how could she be so cheerful at this hour after working all day? Ruthie hummed—Dinah had discovered if Ruthie wasn’t talking, she was humming—as she removed her dressing gown and hung it on a hook behind the door. She glided around the end of the bed, and Dinah expected her to extinguish the lamp and fall onto the mattress. Instead, she paused at her side of the bed and smiled at Dinah.

“You’re tucked in already. Have you finished praying?”

Dinah searched her memory. She recalled being instructed on how to dust, sweep, wash the pitchers and bowls, strip and remake beds, and fluff pillows. But she didn’t recall anything about praying. She shook her head.

“Well, you’re welcome to join me if you like. God’s ears are capable of listening to two of us at once.” Ruthie dropped to her knees beside the bed. Only her head and shoulders showed above the high mattress. She pressed her folded hands beneath her chin and closed her eyes. “Dear God—”

Clutching the covers to her chest, Dinah sat up and stared at the other girl. “What are you doing?”

Ruthie’s eyes popped open. She looked as dumbfounded as Dinah felt. “I’m praying. I always pray before I go to bed. Don’t you?”

Before going to bed, Dinah had always willed the noises from down below to stop so she could sleep. She shook her head.

“Do you pray in the morning, then?”

Dinah scowled. “I don’t pray.”

Ruthie’s eyes flew wide. She gripped handfuls of the quilt as if she needed an anchor. “Not at all?”

“No.”

“But, Dinah, you have to talk to God every day.” Ruthie sounded so dismayed Dinah experienced a rush of guilt she didn’t understand. “If you want Him to bless you, you have to make time for Him.”

Dinah flopped back against her pillows, jerking the quilt as she went. Ruthie lost her grip on the fabric. She didn’t know who this God was, but she’d never been blessed. Was it because she hadn’t made time for Him? She pushed the thought aside. If there was a God who gave blessings, He didn’t bestow them on girls raised in brothels.

Ruthie continued to stare at Dinah with sad eyes. Dinah rolled over so she wouldn’t have to see her. “Do whatever it is you’re doing so we can turn out the lamp and go to sleep. We’ll miss the ten o’clock curfew if you don’t hurry.”

For long seconds silence hung in the room. Then Ruthie’s soft voice carried to Dinah’s ears. “Dear God, thank You for another day to work hard and earn my keep. Thank You for giving me the strength to finish my tasks. Help me always do my best and bring You glory. Be with Mama and Papa, Seth, Jonah, Noah, Timothy, Joseph, and little Dinah June. Bless them and keep them safe.” She prayed for each of the staff members by name, asking for various things, including healing for the dishwasher’s husband. “And, dear God, thank You for bringing Dinah to the Clifton Hotel.”

Dinah’s heart skipped a beat. Eyes wide open and unblinking, she held her breath and waited to hear what Ruthie would say next.

“Help her to feel right at home. Let us become good friends. Please give us
a good night’s rest and let us awaken fresh and ready to do Your will tomorrow. In Your Son’s name I pray, amen.”

A slight creak followed by a looming shadow on the wall let Dinah know Ruthie had risen from her knees. The light flickered, and then Ruthie’s shadow was swallowed up by darkness. The mattress shifted, and a soft sigh sounded from behind Dinah, along with muffled rustling as Ruthie apparently wriggled into a comfortable position.

Dinah’s chest ached, and she released her long-held breath. She stared unseeing at the wall, tired but too tense to rest, and listened to the nighttime sounds of her new home. Wind whispered through the window. The curtains gently swished against the windowsill. A night bird called. In the room next door, a bedspring popped and someone coughed.

Ruthie whispered, “Good night, Dinah. Sleep well.”

A lump filled Dinah’s throat. Occasionally she’d paused outside her mother’s door and called, “Good night.” Tori had always hollered, “Go to bed already!” No one, not even Rueben, had wished her a good night. And no one had ever prayed for her. She should say, “Good night, Ruthie.” Or “Thank you, Ruthie.” But an unwelcome emotion writhed through her middle, and her tight throat refused to release the words.

Dinah blinked back tears. Why couldn’t she be more like Ruthie? Open. Happy. Kind. Comfortable with herself. She recognized the feeling holding her captive. Envy. After several more seconds, another sigh wafted from Ruthie’s side of the bed. Soon deep breaths let Dinah know the other girl had fallen asleep. But Dinah lay awake, her mind playing over her first day in Florence, Kansas. She remembered the egg man apologizing for startling her. Mr. Irwin scolding her. The smiles and welcomes from the staff members of the hotel. And she remembered Ruthie’s prayer.

She’d watched the other girls at school huddling together at recess to chatter and laugh, sometimes flirting with the boys. They never invited her into their circle, though. She’d longed for a friend, and the idea of having one now created a deep ache in the center of her chest. But she wouldn’t be friends with
Ruthie. If she opened herself up to this girl—if she told her where she’d been and the things she’d done—Ruthie would run away in shock. And Dinah would be crushed. So even though Ruthie had prayed for them to be good friends, Dinah would make sure it didn’t happen.

She was here to work. To impress Mr. Harvey. To become one of his girls. Maybe then she would be worthy of forming friendships.