Phoebe A Novella

Chapter One Eden's Pass, California 1935 Faith Green stomped on the clutch and, with her right hand, shifted down to first gear as the Model A lurched to a stop in front of Secondhand Rose. From the driver's seat she waved at the proprietor, Anna Rose Hill, who waved back as she peered out from behind a bit of tattered lace curtain hanging at the window. Anna Rose then returned to arranging the display on the table beneath the window: a child's toy spinning wheel and basket of yarn spindles, a brass bed warmer, a stack of flour-sack dishtowels, a blue-speckled coffeepot with matching cups, a chipped porcelain baby's bathtub, and a wooden soldier propped up in the corner against a freshly painted toy cannon. It was the little soldier that caught Faith's attention. Its carved face peered out at the world beyond the window, its painted eyes wide and curious, its round cheeks cheery, its wellformed mouth tilting upward at the corners as if with secret merriment. Even from this distance Faith could see the doll had been well loved, so smooth were its sweet features. She wonderedand what a fanciful thought it was!whether a child's caresses had caused the wearing away. Perhaps a father had carved it for a very young boy who didn't know toy soldiers were meant for playing war, not for kissing. Faith's heart caught with a pang of longing for the father she'd never known. For another instant her gaze rested on the doll, and her eyes filled with sudden tears. She swallowed hard and brushed them away with her fingertips. Since her husband Finian's death last year, she'd become entirely too sentimental. She still wept at the memory of Fin whistling "Dixie" as he planted corn by the light of a full moon, and she got teary-eyed at the memory of his big voice booming out "When the Roll Is Called Up Yonder" while he stood beside her in church. Lately, with her own loss still fresh, she wept at others' lossesas she did now, thinking about that unknown child and the loved one who had fashioned the doll. And she wept because she wanted to remember her father and couldn't. He had died the same day she was born. Now finished with her display, Anna Rose waved again, bringing Faith's attention back to the task at hand. Faith smiled in return and smoothed her mussed gray bob. She enjoyed racing the open-topped Model A along the dirt road leading from the lease, where the old family home stood tall and proud. But she always arrived at her destination looking disheveled and brightcheeked from the harsh sun and brisk wind. Just six weeks after dear Finian's heart plumb wore out and hers nearly broke with grief, she upped and bought herself this old girlshe stroked the dashboard fondlyand set about learning how to crank the starter and shift from one gear to the next with a minimum of fuss and frog-leap. With each crank of the handle she still whispered a prayer of thanksgiving for the nest egg that Finian, God rest his soul, had left her. The girls had called her foolish to spend such a sum in times like these, butand the thought always brought a smileFin was likely looking over heaven's banister, glad for her charitable heart and pleased as punch with her spunk. Besides, the girls, with hands clasping hats to keep them from flying off in the wind, now hooted and hollered in glee every Sunday as Faith putt-putted them along the dirt road to church. Truth was, when Faith had seen the good that Anna Rose was doing for the poor, she decided to help. The shop owner washed, ironed, and starched discarded clothing; cleaned and polished old furniture; fixed broken toys; and scrubbed rusted potsNoble, Diane is the author of 'Phoebe A Novella', published 2003 under ISBN 9781578564019 and ISBN 1578564018.