Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“…getting drunk…”

1 Kings 16:9

8 years earlier (some other time in the 1800’s)

“Aggie, you’re it!” Clark tugged on Agatha’s blonde braid, initiating a game of tag.

“Clark!” He had already darted ahead across the prairie towards the mountains, ignoring Agatha’s protest. Clark and Agatha were best friends, and everyone in Sunshine Salvation Valley knew it. They were often seen darting across the prairie together or accompanying each other to pick out candy at the general store. Clark came by himself to the church Agatha’s grandfather had started when A.T. Freegrace had first come to Oregon earlier in the 1800’s. When Clark came, he often sat with Agatha and her father. Clark’s own father was the town drunk, and his mother ran their small family farm all by herself, run ragged. Everybody felt bad for the Dangerpride kids, solemn, hardworking Clark and his spitfire little sister Nina, always getting herself into trouble, but always looking up to her older, stronger brother. Clark kept his family problems to himself most of the time, but his eyes grew increasingly serious as he grew older, his countenance increasingly quiet. Clark was a handsome young boy with unruly dark hair. You could tell that if he ran away in about a year and then returned 7 years later that he would return looking like a more handsome, manly version of himself. Although, he’d probably look a little more dangerous and mysterious. He would also be taller.

In the last year, something had changed in Clark and Agatha’s friendship. Mainly, Agatha had decided she was in love with Clark, and that even if he decided to run away someday, she would wait for him forever. Agatha had not learned to pray in italics yet, so she had to pray aloud as she chased after the boy she loved.

“Dear God, I want to marry Clark Lewis Dangerpride some day and live on this prairie with him forever and ever.” Agatha sighed, a small sigh, but one that would mature to be a great asset to her character in later chapters… er years. “Clark! Wait up fer me! I aint got legs as long as yers.” Agatha’s voice comfortably fell into a slight southern accent, mostly for the whimsy of this chapter.

“Aggie, stop complaining and just come and catch me already!” Clark called back to her. As he was saying this, he suddenly stopped in his tracks at the sight of a figure staggering over from the mountains.

“Got ya.” Agatha said practically bowling over Clark. “I thought you said to stop complaining, and look at you giving up the very next second. Why Clark Lewis Dangerpide, I think you’ve chickened out! Imagine letting a girl come and beat you like that, well I say… “ Agatha noticed that Clark’s attention was far from her, which momentarily disappointed her, however, she became concerned when she noticed the pained expression in his eyes. “Clark what are you looking at? Why are you all solemmlike all of sudden? Clark?”

“My Dad.”

“Oh.” Because this is Christian fiction, the drunken father always shows up when their children are having the most fun. His appearance was particularly unusual because Clark’s family actually lived in the other direction, further away from the mountains. Yet, for narrative purposes, Clark’s father had shown up all the same, and just when Clark was letting himself feel like a young boy again, forgetting about the painful burdens he carried at such a young age.

“I hate him so much,” Clark said with anger in his voice.

“You shouldn’t talk about your father that way Clark, the bible tells us to honor our father and mother.” Agatha assumed Clark didn’t know this because he came from an unchurched family.

“Agatha! He hit me last night!” He could see the alarm on his friend’s face and immediately regretted giving her a peek into his dark family life. Her father would never hit her. He felt himself blushing with embarrassment.” You can’t tell anyone, not even your Pa.”

“Oh Clarky! Why would he do a thing like that? How could he?” She clutched at her mother’s locket and stared into the distance. This was a coping mechanism that she had been developing, but it often caused eyestrain and a nagging headache.

“Well I was helping at the Holt’s barn raising, and I got home late, and Dad started yelling at me and cussin,’ and well, I told him he was a lazy good for nuthin’ drunk and that I wished Ma would leave him.” Clark’s voice shook as tears threatened to drip down his tanned face. He was emotional, but not too emotional—certainly not unmanly. Agatha reached into her apron pocket and pulled out her handkerchief, the one she had embroidered along the bottom edge. “I know the plans I have for you declares the Lord,” it read in scrolling pink letters. She lifted the handkerchief to wipe the solitary tear that fell from one of Clark’s piercing eyes. She was wiping his tear, but also trying to get the handkerchief close enough to his face for him to read the words along the bottom edge. Token scripture always helped her in her own hard times. This same verse was written on the first page of her grandfather’s diary. When she read the verse, she imagined her grandfather’s deep voice filling each of the words. As she wiped the tear, she noticed with horror that she had mistakenly pulled out her evangelism handkerchief instead, which would certainly come into use later in this book…er her life, but she didn’t imagine that the verse from Romans “For all have sinned and fall short of the glory of God,” was of much comfort to her weepy friend. She quickly shoved the evangelism handkerchief back into her pocket and pulled out the correct supporting and encouraging handkerchief. Unfortunately, being the developing manly man that he was, Clark had only let a solitary tear from his eye, so she just fiddled with the handkerchief in hopes that he might see the words she had carefully stitched into the bottom.

“Come with me Aggie.” Agatha was startled to feel Clark’s warm palm in her hand. She thought it was kind of sweaty, but then realized she was the main character in a Christian romance novel, and decided that it was the most perfect moment ever. Their hands seemed destined from the beginning of creation to hold each other.

Agatha found herself being pulled into a small grove of trees that seemed to come out of nowhere—it worked really well as a hiding spot in the moment. “I’ve never been here before.” Agatha said with wonder in her voice. She didn’t really care where she was, because, as mentioned earlier, she was holding hands with Clark Lewis Dangerpride! She sighed, you know that sigh that she does, and clutched her locket with her available hand. “I come here sometimes, to be alone, to hide from him. Its my spot.” Clark led Agatha further into the trees.

“There are a lot of bugs here!” Agatha said with alarm.

“CLAAAAAarK!” The voice of Clark’s drunk father called right next to the clump of trees they were hiding in. Clark held his available finger in front of his mouth, signaling Agatha to keep silent. He squeezed her hand, which sent a rush of delight and joy through her person.

“CLAAARRRrk! I know you’re out here somewhere. Don’t make me call the sheriff. I’ll get your mother out here; I’ll get the whole town looking for you. I got some chores you need to see to and I never told you that you could come out and play today.” Clark’s father looked into the trees, inches away from Clark, who had conveniently pulled Agatha closer to him to hide her better from the searching eyes of his inebriated father. Agatha wished she had already learned to pray in italics so that she could thank God for this moment without Clark hearing. After his drunken examination of the small clump of trees, Bart Dangerpride staggered towards the Freegrace farm, still calling Clark’s name. “You’re not a boy anymore,” he yelled. “You’re not a boy anymore! ClaaaaaaRRRRrrrrK!”

The sky had grown particularly dark all of a sudden and Agatha clung tightly to Clark, she had never heard an angry person before. He loosed himself and pulled his knife out of his pocket. “Don’t tell anyone about this.” He took the leather sheath off his knife and began carving in the tree in front of him. Agatha breathed a sigh of relief as she had originally thought he was pulling a knife on her, which would throw him out of the eligible Christian husband category. “We’re going to be friends forever, and I’m carving it into this tree tonight, because no one else has seen my dad like that, besides my Momma and my sister Nina. You promise to be my friend forever Aggie?”

“Of course,” Agatha said breathlessly. Clark finished off his carving: Aggie + Clarky. Agatha could have handled a heart etched around their names, but for the moment, it was perfect. She ran her fingers over the rough bark, feeling the groove of Clark’s shallow carving. “Its perfect,” she said facing Clark. Clark had the look of a deer caught in lantern light. “What’s the matter Clarky?”

“Say, you ever been kissed a boy Aggie,” Clark stammered.

“Why no ...I…” Before Agatha could say another word about Christian virtue and purity, waiting for her knight in shining armor, abstinence, or her plan of having the local Indian tribe craft her a purity ring, Clark grabbed her shoulders, pulled her close to him, and planted a strong kiss on her porcelain cheek. He then let her go, looking into her bright blue eyes for a moment before getting up and running away. Agatha slowly brought her hand up to her left cheek to the place where Clark had pressed his lips and left a kiss. Agatha let out a squeal of delight, and then replayed the moment in her mind. Her cheeks flushed with warmth as she remembered their whole evening together. If it weren’t for her protestant hygiene ethic, she would have resolved to never wash her left cheek again, to preserve the spot where Clark had left a bit of his saliva behind. Agatha glanced once more at the carving and then moved a low tree branch out of the way to watch Clark’s body running away in the distance.

One year later, she would watch him running away again, except for that time, he didn’t come back.