Faith, Hope and Love - A Homer Smith Story
By Dirk Wickenden
Author's Note
This story takes place soon after the events of The Glory Tent. Homer decides to stop off in Elkhart, Indiana. He meets with the kindness of strangers and contemplates settling down. Whilst trying to preserve the style of William Barrett, as I continue stories of his character, I also try to embody the style of Ray Bradbury, in the way he would write about townspeople and the way he used repetition to cement ideas.
'But now faith, hope and love remain, these three; but the greatest of these is love' – 1 Corinthians 13:13.
-1-
Homer's station wagon ate up the miles. He'd had his fingers burned when being roped into preaching at the revivalist tent meeting in Minerun, Missouri recently and, unbeknownst to him, left a local legend behind. The thing with local legends, is that they change over time and those involved change identities as the tale is told and retold. But Homer just wanted to travel the country, work when it suited him and earn some wages; he tried to live like the lilies of the field and the birds of the air, as the good book told him – though he often got into scrapes, not always of his own doing. At a crossroads, he stopped, wetted and stuck out those same fingers now from his window, seeing which way the wind blew – which way to go? Northeast, he decided, further into Indiana; maybe he'd go to Indianapolis or a smaller place.
-2-
Homer pulled up at the gas station in Elkhart. He climbed out from under the steering wheel. 'Fill her up, please' he said to the attendant and then, after parking up, popped into the drugstore next door, to grab some chow and a local paper, to see what jobs were around.
'Hello stranger, what can I do for you?' asked the girl behind the counter.
'What do you recommend, Miss?' Homer asked.
''The pork tenderloin sandwich, it's really tasty'. This was a large, thin pork cutlet, breaded and deep-fried and served in a bun, popular in the Midwest states such as Iowa and Indiana.
'I'll have that and… a root beer, please' Homer responded. As he waited, he browsed through the paperbacks and came across one with a name he was familiar with. He reached into his wallet and pulled out a business card – yep, same fellow, William E. Barrett. Homer had been in Denver about four years ago and Barrett had helped him out twice, in the short time he was there. The book looked interesting, so he grabbed it, along with a copy of The Elkhart Truth, the local newspaper. His food and drink was ready by then; he paid for everything and sat on a stool at the counter, to read the newspaper. There was a story about civil unrest in South Bend, about fifteen miles from Elkhart, the day before. But the people so far in Elkhart seemed friendly enough if perfunctory, to African Americans – at least, they were to him. Homer turned to the job classifieds and folded over the newspaper.
''Scuse me Miss, may I borrow a pen?' Homer asked the young woman behind the counter and he began circling some possible avenues of interest. He then went to the phone booth and dialled the first. It had already been filled, before the newspaper had gone to press. He tried the second, no luck, ditto the third. Maybe Elkhart wasn't the place to stay in. He left the booth and knocked into the waitress coming past, upending the tray of bottles and plates she was carrying. 'Oh man, I am so sorry!'
'That's okay, happens alla time, sir' the pretty young black girl said. Homer helped her pick up the things, then the owner came out with a broom for the glass.
'Land sakes Hope, you need to be more careful!' he said. But Homer stepped in.
'It was totally my fault sir, not – uh – Hope's' he said, latching onto her name and the owner mumbled a half apology to Hope and went back into the rear of the store.
'That's very kind of you to help, sir' Hope said, smiling up at him.
'Please, call me Homer. Homer Smith' and for some reason, his face felt very warm.
'Guys, take it somewhere private' said the young woman behind the counter, the one who had served Homer. Both he and Hope blushed. Homer was usually fairly confident but he found himself acting like a schoolboy suddenly.
'I'm like The Three Stooges all rolled into one!' Homer laughed self-deprecatingly. With that, he tripped over his own feet and fell straight into Hope, inadvertently grabbing hold of her. He froze, eyes wide 'Oh man, I am so sorry!' he stammered, pulling back and nearly tripping again. He gained his feet, then collected his paper and book and went towards the door, saying 'bye' to Hope. He got to his car, then turned around and came back in. Hope's eyes lit up but Homer went to the counter to give back the pen he had borrowed. He left again, looking over his shoulder at Hope and nodded, then tripped out the door. She stifled a laugh.
-3-
The next day, Homer – who had camped out in Studebaker Park, referred again to his newspaper and phoned a farm out at Elk Ridge, to the north of the city, owned by a John Beckett. Success, he could start work that day on some fencing. The work went by quickly and in the late afternoon, he returned to the drugstore for a bite to eat – ostensibly. He entered the building, his heart light and hoping to see Hope, the waitress he'd literally bumped into the day before.
'Hello again, Mr…?' asked the same girl at the counter.
'Smith. What's on the menu today?' he answered.
'Got pastrami on rye or another pork tenderloin?'
'I'll go the pastrami and keep the coffee flowing, Miss…?'
'Faith' she replied.
'So we got Faith and Hope workin' here!' Homer joked.
'Well we ain't got no charity, that's twenty-five cents!' quipped Faith. Just then, Hope came into the store from the back room, carrying another tray laden with crockery and cutlery.
'Hello Hope – I'm standing well back this time!' laughed Homer. Hope blushed and said hi. After he finished his bite to eat and knocked back the coffee, he drew Hope aside. 'Say, do you have any plans tonight?'
'I – uh – not really. What did you have in mind?' Hope stuttered, studiously ignoring Faith's watching them.
'How about a movie? I saw they've got In The Heat of the Night, with Sidney Poitier' Homer said.
'You look a bit like him!' commented Faith.
'Quit listening in, Faith!' Hope said, embarrassed. 'Okay, the movies it is'.
-4-
Homer and Hope came out of the theatre and Homer opened the passenger door of his station wagon for her. He then slid under the steering wheel and started the engine, to take her home. 'Homer, what are you doing tomorrow morning?' asked Hope.
'Got me no plans' he replied.
'Do you go to church?'
'Well, what if I told you I built a chapel once?' Homer said, remembering the nuns back in Arizona and his unpaid work, all for the Lord as Mother Maria Marthe believed. He didn't usually volunteer information like that, 'do not let your left hand know what your right hand is doing', as the Bible said but with Hope, he felt differently.
'Fo' real?'
'Fo' real' he smiled, echoing her speech pattern.
'Would you like to come with me to the Baptist church on St. Clair? Pick me up say at 9.30?'
'Sure, if you direct me' there. They arrived at Hope's boarding house and they got out. At the steps, Homer gave Hope a chaste kiss on the cheek and she turned and ran up the steps. Homer returned to his car and just as he was leaving, Hope ran back out.
'Homer! Where are you staying?'
'Well I got all I need in this here wagon' he replied.
'I just spoke to the Kennedys, they own the boarding house. They have a spare room' Hope said.
'Well, one night's okay', I'll be in, let me grab my things' and that night, Homer slept soundly in a bed, rather than his makeshift bed out of the back of his station wagon.
-5-
On the Sunday morning, after Mrs. Kennedy's renowned cooked breakfast, a stack of pancakes with lashings of maple syrup and topped with thick bacon, Homer and Hope went to the McCoy Memorial Baptist Church on St. Clair Avenue, near the St. Joseph River. Being on the road, he didn't get to church that often. The sermon was on 1 Corinthians 13.
'Brothers and sisters,' the pastor began, 'the blacktop we are travelling on, the road stretches beyond our sight. Our destination isn't always clear and there are bends up ahead, maybe some roadworks but on this road, we carry three things that will not fail us, they be faith, hope and love'. Homer looked over at Hope, as the pastor continued - he could be talking about Homer's own journey.
'Faith, my friends, is what keeps our wheels rolling when we cannot see ahead. It is the trust that, through the darkest night, dawn will come. The sun will shine again – faith whispers in our ear 'keep goin', you are not alone' - can I get an amen?' asked the pastor.
'Amen, Reverend!' an older lady shouted.
'Now hope - hope is the headlights that light the way on that road. And sunlight – that is the Lord's promise – that there are always possibilities. Hope says what is broken can be repaired. It is but a firm assurance that our Father is still writing our story – amen?'
'Amen!' more of the congregation shouted. Homer was drawn in - his whole journey across the West and Midwest, he had mended and fixed and repaired and built.
'And love - love is the very reason we are on the road. Faith keeps us moving, hope shows us the way and love is what gives our journey meaning. What is love? Love is not just what we feel, it makes us choose, leap into action, be altruistic. 'If I have a faith that can move mountains but do not have love, I am nothing'. But also love is to risk, to give without wanting anything in return. Even separated by distance, time and even death – that same love remains. It grows. It echoes – small gestures, acts of faith, embodying hope for a brighter future – they grow like fruit on a tree – the tree bears its fruit, the seasons change but next season, that tree is still standin' and ready to bear yet more fruit. 'Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud''. Homer kept looking at Hope, he couldn't help it. He believed the chapter and verse the pastor was alluding to, was all about her and what he was starting to feel. Hope looked at him, smiling and held his rough workman's hand in her soft, gentle one, as the pastor neared the end of his sermon.
'The fruit of human kindness – is of love. 'And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love'. Now I ask you, are you on that road – what is it that guides you? Do you continue to sin? For at the end of that road, the whole bridge is out and if you don't stop your car in time, into the chasm you fall. But with faith, that is the bridge over the chasm. With hope, that bridge will be in good repair and across the other side – that is love – the love of Jesus Christ. What do I hear?'
'Amen!' came the collective response and the choir led the congregation in a hymn.
-6-
The church was holding a lunch for the congregation and Homer pitched in to help serve. That afternoon, he and Hope spent a few hours at Studebaker Park, then Homer returned Hope to the boarding house and drove back to the Beckett homestead, camping out nearby, so he could start work on the Monday morning. The work the next day went smoothly and Homer felt good after another hard day's graft – paid, of course. John invited him to share some supper with his family – wife Thelma, sons Tom and Sam and daughter Katie. They were good kids, polite – even though Sam and Katie rubbed each other up the wrong way (and chastised – with a twinkle in his eye – by their Dad). It had been a long time since Homer had sat down to a proper homecooked meal.
'Homer – we'd be honoured if you'd say the grace for us' Thelma Beckett said. Homer nodded.
'Lord, thank you for the food before us on this table. Thank you for your blessings and for the kindness of strangers. Amen' he said and he meant it, every word. Homer had never felt so welcome by white folks before and then he felt that familiar itch – the one where he thought it was time to hit the road. But something – or someone – gave him pause. He had to see her now.
-7-
'Homer – please stay' Hope pleaded.
'Hope, I want to. But – I like the toil, the work – I go wherever I'm needed. Come with me' Homer responded.
'You're needed here, Homer. I need you'.
'Home is where the heart is. There's a whole country – world – to see out there. Come with me'.
'I – I don't know. Please wait til the morning, at least'.
'I will – I'll be round about 10 o'clock'.
-8-
Hope sat on the edge of the bed in her room, staring at her suitcase. It was full but empty. Standing there on the cold, bare floorboards. She had thought her room was cozy once. It was home, even though it was a boarding room. But was it really home? She thought back on what Homer had said. Was her heart with Homer – she had only known him for a week – or was it here, in Elkhart? She could be warm and cozy anywhere, even camping under the stars, as long as she was with Homer – Homer would be her home. The room was cold but she felt hot. Full of contradictions. She opened the suitcase, pulled out things, then put them back. Why couldn't she make up her mind? She repeated the process, opening and closing, closing and opening. It was time to go. Time to stay.
-9-
Homer waited outside for Hope. He waited. And he waited. He was ready to go, he was ready to stay, settle down, make a home, with a wife. He climbed out of the station wagon, started to go towards Hope's building. Then he caught himself and climbed back in. What was wrong with him? He'd give her another five minutes, then he'd drive off. Or he'd go and knock on her door. Homer glanced at his watch. It had been one minute since he'd looked at the face. He closed his eyes, then jolted awake – suddenly five minutes had become ten.
'Time to go' he said to himself. He started the engine and pulled away. As his station wagon turned the corner, the door to Hope's building opened and she came running out, hat on and carrying the suitcase. She was frantic, desperate to go with Homer, to see more of the world and not be stuck in Elkhart forever. But Hope saw only the dust hanging in the air. He had gone.
The End.