Free Waiting For Lily Bloom by Jericha Kingston

trusted herself.
    “The hope we have in Christ exceeds natural hope,” Reverend Cox said. “It surpasses the hope a farmer has when he plants his wheat. The hope of Christ transcends the hope that God will send rain to shower the fields. This certainty is for those who place their trust in the resurrected Christ. All who trust Him by faith and turn from their sins will be saved. This is a miraculous act which no man can accomplish.”
    She trembled.
    “For if we have been planted together in the likeness of His death, we shall be also in the likeness of His resurrection.”
    How she needed the Lord. The sunlight beamed through the windows, exposing her, piercing her selfish, unforgiving heart. If she trusted Christ and turned from her sins, would she be like Him, loving the Father and her neighbor rightly?
    “As none know which way the wind blows, so it is with the Spirit of God. If He breathes across your life today, do not harden your heart, but open the door, and the King of Glory will come in. Let us pray.”
     
    ****
     
    William Driggers cursed his flat tires. He wiped his brow with his handkerchief as hot, dusty air enveloped him. Six days. He’d driven six days in this filth and still hadn’t reached Ned’s. God Himself rested on the seventh day. Maybe he’d be as fortunate. He placed the tire pump behind the seat, then retrieved the crank handle.
    Neutral. Half-throttle. Retard the spark. Key on.
    He walked to the front of the vehicle with the crank handle, inserted it into the opening, and heaved it clockwise. The engine sputtered to life, belching its pungent exhaust. He withdrew the handle, tossed it behind his seat, and drove off.
    What a preposterous way to spend Easter. He should be dining on Miss Washington’s ham and biscuits and Edna’s apple butter, not ingesting copious amounts of dirt. He kept his handkerchief over his mouth and nose. What he wouldn’t do for a cup of buttermilk.
    The train was out of service. And no wonder, with this devastation. Newspapers revealed the truth of it. The land was as barren as reported. First the Depression and now this. Americans starved and endured disastrous weather. The religious believed it to be the judgment of God.
    Poppycock.
    The austere landscape brought a desolation of soul. There’d been nothing but dirt for miles. With any luck, he’d arrive in Pauls Valley soon.
    Congress should heed Hugh Bennett’s soil conservation techniques. He’d take it to Representative Peterson if he must. The entire country smothered under the menace of dust. If these were the conditions under which his brother labored, how did he eat? How did he support his wife? Why would he stay in such a forsaken place?
    Not to mention Lily. The child was unaccustomed to such circumstances. Did she hunger? Was she ill?
    After the storm, the severity of her situation became clear. Ned had telephoned, explaining the debacle in its entirety. Which was more humiliating, his unmarried daughter being trapped overnight in some farmer’s home, or his married daughter starving in the middle of nowhere? What would people say?
    He would never allow his daughter to endure such disgrace! He must intercede.
    That was the end of it.
     
    ****
     
    Lily embraced Aunt Charity and Uncle Ned as they entered her home.
    Home. With James and the children. Only a week ago, home was a Regency-style dwelling surrounded by gnarled oaks draped with Spanish moss. Home was with Papa. Her heart sank. Did he miss her today? This was the first Easter they’d spent apart. She clasped her hands together. No lamenting. She had a new family now, dear ones who surrounded her with joy and kindness.
    James shook hands with Uncle Ned, and Aunt Charity set a plate of biscuits on the kitchen table.
    The girls wiped the dinner plates and turned them upside down.
    Aunt Charity rushed to the sink and washed her hands. “I can’t think of a better day to enjoy these figs.” Her words lilted as she pulled a cloth-wrapped