Free Hearts Aglow by Tracie Peterson Page B

standing still. I know it’s hard for her to just rest, but I remind her that it’s the only way to heal.”
    Rachel smiled. “And what does she say?”
    Laughing, Euphanel put the finished curtain panel aside and picked up the next one. “She tells me that the Lord can heal her with a single touch, just like He did folks in the Bible. I agreed, but told her that until He decided to do that, she had to rest.”
    “I do wish Zed could find out who was responsible. I know he had our boys go to Lufkin to ask around there about the White Hand of God, but he told me that no one seems to know anything – or if they do, they aren’t talking.”
    “That doesn’t surprise me. Folks seem steeped in their secrets when it comes to such underhanded events. I do wish we could do something to bring the people together, though. I hate that we sit separately at any gathering – that we have our separate churches. I want to sit with Sissy in church, but she’s hardly welcome in ours.”
    “I heard Pastor Shattuck say that if skin color were the basis for acceptance, then Jesus probably wouldn’t be welcome, either.”
    Euphanel put her hand to her mouth and suppressed a giggle.
    “I’m sure,” she said, lowering her hand, “that didn’t go over well.”
    “No,” Rachel agreed, smiling, “but I thought it made a whole lot of sense.”
    Euphanel began working on the next hem and shook her head.
    “Funny how folks always think of Jesus as blond-haired and blueeyed. I suppose it comforts them to see Him in their own way.”
    “I would imagine so, but then, Sissy probably thinks of Him with skin as dark as hers.”
    Looking up, Euphanel grew thoughtful. “Do you suppose folks all over the world think of God that way? Each in their own color and manner?”
    “Seems reasonable,” Rachel replied. “He is all things to all people.”
    “I’ll have to ask Sissy sometime what color she sees our Savior.”
    Euphanel took careful stitches as she hemmed the heavy brocade fabric. Lizzie and she had found the dark gold and brown material at the commissary buried far beneath other more popular pieces. The price had been reduced because of a lack of interest, and Euphanel had taken the entire bolt. It seemed a nice heavy material to put up on the new bedroom windows.
    “I just had a thought.”
    “About what?” Euphanel asked.
    “You were talking about something to bring the people together. Pastor Shattuck suggested the black and white baseball game tomorrow, but what about the sacred-harp singing?”
    Euphanel had once loved this community activity. Over the years, folks had gotten away from shape-note singing, or sacred harp, as others called it. “I think that’s a wonderful idea. We could see if there was any interest at the celebration tomorrow – maybe in the evening, after the judging is announced. There are surely enough folks around here who’ve participated before that would want to do so now.”
    “We used to have quite a good group of singers,” Rachel added. “Remember the old days when we would have gatherings on a Saturday after the mill shut down? We would sing all afternoon and into the night.”
    “Yes! I remember it well.” Euphanel closed her eyes and could almost see the squared up formation. Altos facing the tenors, basses facing the trebles. “I enjoyed that so much.”
    “Then I think we should begin again. I don’t know if the folks would feel comfortable asking the Negroes to join us, but it would be worth trying,” Rachel said thoughtfully.
    “Imagine using music to bring us all together.”

    Deborah closed the Bible and looked at Sissy. “Are you ready to lie back down?”
    “I reckon so, Miss Deborah. I’m feelin’ a bit poorly.”
    Getting to her feet, Deborah put the Bible aside and went to help Sissy from the rocking chair. “Dr. Clayton said it would probably be some months before you felt completely whole again.”
    She helped Sissy to the bed and gently eased the woman onto