Charity Read Free Page B

who claimed they had too much that week. Gustie’s needs were few. So far she had managed. But Lena wondered for how long.
    Lena peeked around the side of the house. No horse, no wagon. She opened the front door and called in, “Gustie? You home?” Lena stood for a moment and took a deep breath, bitterly disappointed. “Fiddlesticks! Well, I’m going in to sit down a little.”
    Once inside she decided to fortify herself for the long walk back home. She was in no hurry. She put the coffee on, then sat at Gustie’s table to wait for it to perk itself into something drinkable. The first time she was here, almost two years ago, Gustie served her a cup of freshly brewed coffee. Lena took a mouthful of the strongest, bitterest coffee she had ever had, and it would not go down. She had to run outside and spit it into the weeds. She came back into the house, demurely patting her mouth with her handkerchief, saying, “That’s not Lutheran coffee!” Gustie had laughed so hard the tears came to her eyes, and Lena laughed with her. They both still laughed whenever they thought of it.
    Now Lena’s eye’s wandered around Gustie’s small, sparsely furnished living room. Her tabletops and chests were bare of the crocheted and embroidered frills that women made for themselves, for each other and passed down to daughters and granddaughters. Still, Lena was comfortable here. Other things bespoke the life of her friend lived within these walls.
    The main adornments in Gustie’s home were her books—a shelf full of them—richly bound and wearing the patina of affectionate use. Lena had never seen so many fine books, not even at Doc Moody’s or in Pastor Erickson’s study. She ran her hand across the bindings reading some of the names: Shakespeare, Dickens, Sand, Austin, Brontë, Emerson, Thoreau, Hawthorne. Once, with Gustie’s permission, Lena had pulled some off the shelves and tried to read a bit. She quietly put them back; they were beyond her understanding. One needed more than a fourth grade education and being able to read from the Bible to make much of books like these.
    On the wall hung two paintings that Lena suspected were something special since Gustie had carted them all the way across country. But Lena was not interested in paintings or pictures unless they were of people she knew or scenes from the Bible. These were neither. One depicted sea waves breaking on large rocks against a stormy sky, and the other, a tranquil sea with circling white birds. Glancing into the bedroom, Lena saw on the bedside table the leather photo album which had appeared last year. Gustie never offered to show the pictures inside to Lena. She was tempted to look at them now, just for something to do. No. I’ll wait till I’m invited. Lena noted the white nightgown hanging on the closet door. She thought there was something peculiar about it, but she couldn’t think what at the moment.
    The coffee was perking up a commotion and Lena removed it from the heat and poured herself a cup. When she finished she washed the cup and carefully put it back on the shelf where she found it. She decided she might as well do the few dishes Gustie had left as well. A plate, knife and fork, and the frying pan.
    Lena’s virtually sleepless night was finally taking its toll. She lay down on Gustie’s bed for a nap. She could rest a few minutes, get up, drink the rest of the coffee, and go home. Maybe Gustie would be back by that time. As she drifted off to sleep, she realized what was odd about the nightgown. It was too small. It could never fit Gustie.

    The coffee was stone cold.
    Oh, for heaven sakes . Lena looked outside. The sky was dimming. She felt addleheaded. Well, how could I sleep all day ? She could not now make it home before dark. Lena wasn’t afraid of the dark, but she didn’t feel like walking home in it either. Anyway, at the moment she had nothing to go home to. Nothing at all. She went back to bed. This time she undressed and